


Secrets

by TwistedViolets



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Blood and Gore, Bullying, Crossdressing, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Fruit metaphors, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Incest, It’s Ben :(, Klaus needs a hug, M/M, Masturbation, Names as numbers, Obsession, Pedophilia, Possessive Behavior, Puberty, Rape/Non-con Elements, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Reginald centric, Rumors, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Rivalry, Underage Drinking, Victim Blaming, canon character death, handjobs, the mausoleum
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 20
Words: 46,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23317210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwistedViolets/pseuds/TwistedViolets
Summary: There was something about Number Four that drew Reginald in...
Relationships: Klaus Hargreeves/Reginald Hargreeves
Comments: 170
Kudos: 289





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is what quarantine has done to my mental state. This is dark! Please look at the tags! A big part of this fic is GROOMING.
> 
> Sorry for any typos! I’ll be back to look this over eventually!

Number Four was constantly crying in his crib from the moment he was born. Nannies attempted to soothe the infant but found the task harder than first thought. The infant could not be swayed with cooing, with pacifiers, or even the constant embrace.

These methods may have silenced him for short periods of time but it was never enough. The infant's eyes were always chasing a shadow...or sometimes nothing at all. It was as if he could see something no one else could and of course, this was an extraordinary discovery.

Reginald wrote this down in his journal with excitement. The first sign of extraordinary potential and it came in the form of seeing the unknown. What could the infant be seeing? Visions of the past? Future? Ghosts or phantoms?

He isn't sure which pleased him more but he wrote down each option with optimism.

...

Number Four was different from the other children. His first word was 'fuck.' It was an awfully disgusting thing to hear and Reginald nearly had the wind knocked out of his sails.

Which one of his Nannies had taught the child a word fit for a sailor?

He questioned each nanny thoroughly, but none of them claimed responsibility, not that he had expected them to but...none of them seem the type to do such a thing. They were all elderly, forty-five to fifty years old with life experience and manners to match.

He wondered where Four learned it. It wracked his brain for an entire night. He laid in bed, eyes staring accusingly at the ceiling as if it held the answers and surprising it did.

What if this impossibly learned word was linked to Number Four's power?

Reginald wasted no time in jotting that down in his Journal.

...

"Daddy," Number Four cooed to him, running around the halls like some kind of unmannered swine. The child was more prone to the word than the other children, particularly because the other children only had to be told once not to use it but Four? He showed quite the resilience to pain.

To think the children were almost Six. Such little time and so much work left to do.

Number Four comes barreling towards him and Reginald simply extends his cane out to the side and trips the child. Four falls with a bang, scraping his knee as he skids across the floor.

"Ouch!" Number Four sat back on his butt before clenching his eyes shut as he holds his bloodied knee. "Daddy that's mean," he whines, in that high pitched girlish voice he used often on the nannies. A manipulation tactic.

"Stop your blabbering," Reginald scolds, his voice filled with disgust at the child below him. This is not the extraordinary soldier he paid for. This is a creature who knows no basic manners nor courtesies.

"Dad," Number Four whines again and Reginald looks down at him, really looks down at him. His hand reaches up and adjusts his monocle as he examines the child.

Number Four's lips are slightly parted, wet, glistening in the light, small sharp breathes leave his mouth and his skin is pale from the lack of sunlight he experienced. They only played in the yard for thirty minutes every Saturday.

He finds himself drawn to it. The look of pure innocence that shines out from the child and when he bends down to be at eye level with the child he receives a toothy smile that spills even more of that childish invisibility that Four thought he had.

"Number Four...would you mind if I touched you?" It was a simple question, not needed seeing as the child belonged to him, but he wanted the child to give the child a choice. He wanted to be told no, to have his mind pushed back in some rational place he had forgotten.

"Yes?" Four says it as if it's a question, his voice going high at the end of the word as he tilts his eyes. A simple gleam of curiosity fills the young boy's eyes.

He reaches a hand out, laying it on the child's leg, below his knee. He rubs the skin for a moment, feeling how soft it is, feeling the warmth that grows, imagining the blood pumping beneath the child's skin.

It was at that moment that it occurred to him that he might have a problem. It didn't stop him though, no, he just felt a sudden surge of power in his veins. 

He's always had a taste for Forbidden fruit.

...

It was shortly after he built Grace, a surrogate mother so to speak, that he noticed a trend among the children. Bruised arms, bruised faces, bloodied lips...all signs of healthy competition brewing within the ranks.

Grace often treated the wounds with sweet words he regrets programming her with. She reports back to him then telling him the children's thoughts, those things he rarely cared for.

"Number One seems to have gotten himself into your personal book collection again," she hums, folding the laundry while speaking to him, multitasking as an advanced machine should. "He has some profound thoughts about astronomy."

He doesn't much care for it. He makes a note of it in his journal but knows it'll probably be a wasted space of paper. At least One was interested in something meaningful unlike Three who eyes up beauty magazines he receives in the mail.

He's always scolded her for such actions. If he lets her get carried away with an ideal of vanity how would that look to the public? She's going to be an important gear in the bigger machine.

The machine intended to save the world.

"I'm worried about Four," she says, folding another towel, seemingly slowing down for a split moment, her processers hissing. "The other children have taken a liking to bullying the small boy. He's always so happy that I can't ever tell he's injured until I see it for myself."

Bullying? What a strange way to say survival of the fittest.

...

Reginald walks down the halls, quiet aside from a whispered mumble. He follows it, knowing it's coming from the attic. Always. It's as if they had convinced themselves that they were safe up there, unwatched, but make no mistake he had plenty of ways of knowing.

He put a generous about of cameras around his home. This is the base of operations and leaving it up to attack is not an option.

He opens the attic door slowly, allowing it no option to squeak and tell the occupants of his arrival. He takes each stair in the same way, slow, methodical, knowing there's no race to the finish line here.

Slow and steady.

He's halfway up the stairs when he can finally look over the side. Number Four kneeling, surrounded by One and Three. Six sat off in a corner of the room, book on his chest, his eyes shut as he sleeps away. Two examining a blade, using the light from a nearby window.

"Come on Klaus-" Awful, it's down right awful how they disregard their ranks in order for a sentimental gain. "Bark for me...puppy dog!" Three teased Four, pulling on his hair lightly, while Four's face gave no indication of emotion for a moment. He just stares ahead, blankly.

"Come on," One prods Four with his hand on his shoulder, his grip tightening every moment until Four finally cries out in pain.

"Woof! Woof!" Four's eyes tear up, his cheeks go pink. "Woof!" He barks again, dropping down on his hands and knees like a real mutt. One steps on his hand a scowl on his face.

"Did I tell you to stop?" 

One's foot grinds down on Four's hand, his actions fueled by Three's giggles. A sharp crackle echoes through the room, and then Four curls in on his hand and sobs against it.

One broke a bone.

Two drops the blade, rushing from the window to push on one's chest. "H-hey y-you t-took it too f-far!" Two's voice is hoarse as he stutters.

He finally decides to break it. The silent vow he's taken...although he thoroughly enjoyed seeing that the children, did in fact, see themselves on different levels. It's good, without competition no one would ever wish to get better, stronger.

"Children," he scolds, taking the final steps without the original caution. The children all chamber up, they hurry into a line, except for Six who remains sleeping in the corner. It was of no concern of his, although he could think of plenty of ways that child could be productive.

"Anger and pain are life's greatest teachers-" he goes on, hoping to encourage more of this behavior, although he knows it was more teasing than the true competition he wishes they had.

Four grasps his hand as he stands there, tears rolling down his cheeks, his eyes all red and puffy. "Come Four, you're no good to me injured."

He turns around, uninterested in continuing the lecture he had started. The children seemed to understand, none of them cowered away, none of them thought they were being scolded.

Four trailed behind him, hiccuping, crying incoherent whispers, trying his best not to sob. "Four," he said and that was all it took for the child to go silent.

In the infirmary Four sits on a bed, holding out his hand with a tremble. "They hate me," he cries, seemly forgetting the scolding he already got.

"Why do you say that?"

He isn't interested. He just wants to prod sore subjects. He wants to make those bruises burn.

"They always...they always tease me and hit me and-" Four sobs and his chest heaves.

He wraps Four's hand, disgusted at the messy crying the child is displaying but intrigued by a sudden heat in his veins. He feels hunger when he looks at Four, when he looks at his bruises, at his res colored cheeks, and his puffy eyes.

"You lack their respect. If you wish for their teasing to stop you must give them a reason to respect you. Wait until you find them standing by a staircase, wait until they don't expect a thing, wait until the moment is right and then push. I doubt you'll find yourself being teased anymore."

Respect from fear is the best respect.

Four stares at him, his eyes wide, his wet glistening lips slightly parted, but nothing comes out. The child just stares at him.

"Can I touch you?" Four nods, still speechless, still so very delicious looking.

He touches Four's face, wiping away the tears, and then lets a finger prod his lips for a moment before dropping his hands. The fruit is almost ripe, almost good enough to eat, and he wonders if the fruit feels it too or if it feels nothing at all.

So many possibilities.

...

Nothing ever came of that conversation but a few weeks later Four fell down the stairs wearing Grace's heels and broke his jaw.

The child made many noises of disgust at being put on a liquid diet. He would glare at his siblings at dinner time as if he was angry at them for eating while he was forced to drink minty bacony milkshakes.

Two days after Four was injured Reginald found himself lacking motivation. He was doing things with lackluster, finding his mind occupied with the thought of something missing.

He couldn't figure it out.

Even as he came to dinner that night, nothing was out of place, nothing was missing, yet his mind kept going wild. Something is wrong here, something is different.

Four sucks on a straw, bites on the tip, and glances up at him and it makes his heart do this thing. It drops in his stomach, being looked at by this fruit.

_Daddy_

That's it. He's missing that constant noise Four provides. The child always coos to him, calling him daddy still, never seeming to grow anymore aware that it's not exactly something he welcomes.

The other children don't dare call him that anymore. He hates it when they do but Four...it just feels right with Four.

It's like each time Four says it, each time his mouth forms those syllables, he's telling him he belongs to him. That's what it means, isn't it?

That he owns him.

_Daddy_

Somehow the mere word makes a strange sense of pride well up in his chest. Like a sudden need for him to look towards Four and go that's my boy. Look how pretty he is, how soft he is, look how wide his mouth gets when he smiles.

It's enough to send blood to his member, making him take a sharp inhale of breath at the dinner table that goes unnoticed.

...

He had never had the urges to reproduce. It's nothing but a time-waster, a disgusting activity, but for the first time he can remember he couldn't go to sleep that night.

He tossed and turned, blankets off and on, he flipped his pillow again and again yet still he couldn't get his member, his human penis to stop aching inside the confines of his pants.

This is all Four's fault. If the child just stopped calling to him like that, stopped looking at him all wide-eyed, stopping parting his lip in that way...

He gives up on trying to sleep through it. It's impossible. He rarely slept and there's no way he could right now, not with the way heat is bubbling in his stomach, seemingly out of know where, his erection twitches.

He palms it through his pants, his constricting pants. He regretted, for a mere moment, not going for something looser, but he had not wished to be looked down upon like his children who preferred to sleep in loose clothing.

He unbuttoned his pants, feeling a hint of shame at his actions. He's never felt the need for reproduction, never felt the need to touch himself, and yet right now he feels such a strong desire that he's basically ripping off his clothes.

He shoves his hand inside his boxers, touching his bare skin. This place he only ever washed, never played with. Never.

_Daddy_

Just imagining Four say it makes a bead of precum form at the tip of his erection and he knows he's in deep.

...

His fruit is right there, right there for his taking, for his tasting, for his pleasure. He wanted to tear off his uniform and just stare at his pale porcelain skin...watching as that look of admiration turns to pure horror in Four's eyes.

Grace removes the brace from around Four's jaw. Four whines, touching the skin gently as he opens his mouth and examines his flexibility.

"How are you feeling darling?" Grace babies Four with her sweet worrying.

"Much better," Four grins for a moment before scrunching his nose up in pain. "I mean I will be in a day or two," Four laughs his sweet laughter.

The sound that somehow became familiar to Reginald. In the way that made it bring warmth to his chest, although he knows the heart isn't the emotion control center it seems to be each time he looks at Four.

"Daddy?" Four tilts his head at him, questioning his staring most likely.

_Daddy_

He doesn't say a word. Just continues to look at Four with his mouth in a thin line, fighting to keep his sudden surge of lust under control. And maybe some part of him wants Four to get suspicious, to find out, to question him.

...

He sat in his office, writing down in his journal these feelings he's been having. Trying to self diagnose himself with something other than lust. But he finds nothing.

Nothing to explain the hardness between his legs, nothing the explain his sudden interest in the boy, his sudden feelings towards a member of the same sex. Not that, that part matters that much to him, but to other humans, it might seem sinful.

A fire roars in the fireplace, crackling, and sending a golden hue over everything, causing him to lose focus on his writing. Not even his need for knowledge is enough to put water on the flame of desire that has bloomed for Four.

A knock sounded on his door but he paid it no mind. He isn't in the mood for visitors. 

Another knock and he simply sits back in his chair and ignores it. He stares at the door his eyes unfocused, just waiting until he's alone again. 

"Daddy?" Four's voice comes through the door, small and hoarse...

"Yes?" He said, his voice coming out without his permission as if he has been longing for so long to respond to that word without scolding. He wants to hear Four say it again and again.

"Can I come in?"

He leans back over the desk, placing his hands on it as his erection seems to somehow harden more. "Yes," he replies lamely, biting back the urge to touch himself.

Four walks in, curls on his head bouncing with each step, and the child's hands are grasping as his shirt. "Daddy...are you mad at me?" The child asks, his eyes drifting from Reginald to the floor.

Never.

"Of course not," He spews as he stands, uncaring of his hardening erection. The child won't notice. Or maybe he wants him to. He walks up to Four, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Is everything alright?"

He doesn't really care...but he wants to get close to Four. To this fruit that keeps begging him to eat it.

Four looks up at him, a small smile on his lips. "It is now," he giggles, his posture seeming to grow more relaxed.

He gets a whiff of Four. His sweet, sweet scent, and when he leans in closer to smell him...and he kisses the child. Presses his lips against Four's, feeling the soft plumb skin, feeling the heat, feeling the tenseness of Four.

"What?" Four sputters, his cheeks glowing red. "What was that?"

"A kiss," he whispers against Four's lips, just enjoying the way Four's eyes are wide, innocent, just confused. "It's what you do when you like someone."

"Oh," Four's shoulder's slump, a small relieved smile. "You like me?"

"I don't hate you."

Four smiles, rubbing his finger over his own lips, just seeming to be happy with the kiss. With the idea that he's liked, he's special, unlike his other siblings who aren't liked but tolerated.

He can see that Four is beaming with pride.

...

The child hung around him more often than usual. Seemingly taking his affection better than he expected him to. Must be the child's innocence.

The child followed him back to his room, the room no child was ever permitted. "Daddy One keeps teasing me," Four complains to him in his voice. The sweet sweet melody.

He walks into his room, spotting his journal on his nightstand, the very reason he went into the room. But he stopped mid-step, turning around to his smiling boy. 

Four was humming something with a sweet smile on his lips. "Can I touch you?" He asks again, wanting to feel Four, to feel his warmth.

"Yes." 

He grasps Four's hand, holding it tightly before slipping his other hand underneath the boy's shirt. He rubs his hand over his stomach as he walks backward and pulls until Four lands in his lap.

Four's cheeks are red.

He stops grasping his hand and instead lets it fall on his thighs. His fingers move around and around in circles as his hand crawls closer and closer to his boy's member.

He cups it. The small penis between Four's leg and the red on his boy's face spreads all the way down his neck.

"Why are you touching me there?" Four almost stutters, embarrassment lacing its way through his voice. 

"Because I...like you." He said it, he said that phrase he had avoided saying for so long. "This is where people touch when they like each other."

"But Daddy-" he rubs his palm against Four's member, getting a hiss out of the boy's lips. "That feels strange."

"It'll feel good soon," he ensures the child, letting Four know everything is going to be alright. This is normal.

He unzips Four's pants, slipping his hand inside, feeling the penis grow larger in his palm. It feels so warm.

"Have you ever touched yourself here?"

He's never seen it. He's never caught Four doing it on the cameras but maybe the child did somehow, slipped away somehow.

"No."

He captures Four's lips before gently rearranging the child on the bed. He shoves down Four's undergarments before grasping his small erection. He strokes it leisurely, just enjoying the way Four squirms back and forth, like he's caught between wanting it to stop and wanting more.

"Daddy."

He rubs the sensitive head once before going back down stroking the shaft. The child reached a hand up, digging his nails into his shoulder before curling his toes and moaning. His hand fills with a small amount of cum, the pearly substance makes his hand glisten. It was over quickly but thats to be expected since Four had never touched himself before.

Four pants, pressing his thighs together, digging his nails in harder. "What...what is that?" He asks, bewildered, sweat covering Four's skin

" Semen," he says matter of factly letting himself feel some sick sense of pride at seeing Four below him, completely wrecked.

...

He wants to be inside Four. He wants to feel his warm insides, feel him clenching around him, feel each moan wrack his small body but he knows it's too soon for that.

The boy lays beneath him, one finger in his hole, and his eyes scrunched up in pain. No matter how much lube is used it won't change the fact that he's small, that he's not ready, he's just a child.

He'll have to wait.

But he doesn't want to.

He watches Four finger himself, moaning, hissing when he hits a sore spot. This is his training now. He's dragged away Four for this.

"Am I doing it right?" Four asks as a small whispered moan rips out from behind his clenched teeth. "It hurts."

He knows but he doesn't care.

He doesn't tell Four to stop. He isn't allowed to stop. He needs to get prepared, get used to one finger and then they'll move on to more.

His erection twitches in his pants but he ignores it. It'll come time for that eventually.

...

Four starts sharing a bed with him. He doesn't mind it per se but he knows the other children find it suspicious.

Maybe he wants that.

Four's sleeping face is peaceful, beautiful, just so soft and porcelain like he could break him if he touched too hard. 

He laid beside Four, hard, aching, ready to go, but he keeps himself content just knowing Four is his. Even if the child doesn't quite understand.

...

He gets Four off multiple times a week and they do their training almost nightly. Now Four can almost take two fingers but it's still not enough. 

He could force himself inside...he could...but he wants to keep Four intact. His pride would be shattered if he put a mark on his beautiful boy who's devoted so much to him.

He sits up in bed, writing in his journal, keeping tabs on their process and Four lays beside him. His head against his side, his hand on his thigh, and his dick throbs.

He hasn't gotten himself off in weeks. Finding it gives him little enjoyment compared to when he touches Four, feels Four, watches Four. It's hard but he's found that if he waits long enough it'll go away on its own.

"Daddy?"

He shuts the journal, laying it beside himself, on his nightstand. "Yes?" 

"Can I touch you? Like you touch me?"

He'd never deny his boy this. His little number Four can do with him as he pleases. 

"But of course..."

Four sits up, eyes furrowed in concentration as reaches out a hand and sits it on his hard erection. He just places it there gently, looking closely.

"It's...hard."

An appropriate observation.

"You can use more force," he guides Four with his voice into doing his bidding. Four's pressure increases, he palms the erection, no doubt feeling it twitch through his layers of clothes. "Good," his voice is rough, it's just the heavy air in the room.

Four plays with his zipper, and then his fingers pull on his pants, and he leans up to allow Four to take them off. Four then pulls down his boxers, just enough that his erection springs free and relief floods him.

It's red tip curling into his stomach, pre-cum already beading, and when Four touches a single finger to the pearly substance he licks his finger.

His mind almost goes blank. Like nothing else matters but this right here.

"Salty," Four frowns before wrapping his hand around his erection, his pinky and thumb not even touching before he starts to stroke him in that way he does to him.

It feels great. Amazing even. He's never thought that having someone else touch you could be this rewarding but oh, it certainly is.

"Four," he says his name, just feeling some foreign need to praise the child, but finds himself unable to mutter true praise. 

Four's pressure increases, his eyes staring at his erection with complete and utter focus, and then Four leans down closer, almost like he's going to smell it, but then his tongue darts out and licks a line down the shaft.

It's even better. He wants to hold Four down, force his mouth open, and shove himself inside. He wants Four's tongue all over him, he wants to feel Four's throat. He wants and wants all these irrational things.

He wraps his own hand around Four's tightening the hold, and then he lets his hips buck up in search of pleasure, of the end. He watches as Four leans back, licking his lips.

He cums.

Semen spews on his hand and Four's in a few quick bursts. His hips stop moving and he takes a deep breath before shifting and grabbing a handkerchief from on his nightstand. 

He wipes off his hand before turning back to Four. Four is staring at his hand intensely, spreading his fingers and looking so deeply at the semen as if it had spoken to him.

He grasps Four's hands and wipes it off silently.

"Was it good?" Four finally asks as he lays back down with him. 

He gives a nod, not in the mood for conversation because he's sure he would say something he didn't mean to, some stupid words of praise.

Maybe Something like I love you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reginald has a change of heart...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh here I am again.
> 
> Adding another chapter.
> 
> It’s very mean to Klaus.
> 
> :(

"Where did you learn that from?" He asked Four later, when it had dawned on him that he'd never taught the boy that semen was in fact, digestible. 

Four, half asleep, rolled over and mumbled something about his 'friends.'

Right. 

Ghosts. 

Someone else had taught Four that, someone else had stolen that chance away from him and he was understandably upset at that. But he let it slide, just for now, because Four's half-lidded stares are worth more than his anger.

...

The children played as they usually did. Not that they played much in the sense of typical child behavior but they did, in fact, do something of the sort. Talking amongst themselves while cleaning their rooms, whispering together during the weekly reading, and of course, they always attempted to sneak away during the night and hide out in the attic.

He'd been slacking lately. More concerned with Four rather than scolding; a terrible move in retrospect. Now all the children seemed more adventurous, more able to brave the waters than before because he had let them believe themselves worthy of their little luxuries.

"If you don't use the bleach mom will have to clean that stand again-" Four tells Three and receives a roll of her eyes.

"Bleach burns," she whines, continuing to dust the stand off with a dry rag. "Besides what if it ruined my nails?"

"Baby," Two said underneath his breath only to get a shove from One.

Healthy competition.

Yet, something didn't fit right with him as he watched from the archway. He knew what it was but had a reluctance to fix the problem. Only for a mere second, as he knew if he took back his position of dominance and power he'd lose Four but...the world is worth more.

"Three," he growls, breaking the air, letting the color drain from the child's face as she came to look at him. "You will use bleach."

An order.

She follows without a word, a small uncomfortable look on her posture as she walked over to the bucket of bleach and dipped the rag inside gently and silently. All the other children have stopped to watch her too, some in pity, some just curious.

Three wipes down the stand again, this time with bleach burning her fingertips.

"Dad," Four said to him, drawing his attention, giving him a look that amounted to puppy eyes. As if the boy was asking him to be nicer, to stop doing such mean things, but it wasn't mean.

The children just couldn't understand their place in the world yet but they'd understand someday.

"As you were," he says, dismissing the wondering eyes. Four looks at him just a fraction more before going back to his cleaning.

...

"Dad," Four whispered to him that night, rigid in bed despite the fact that they had done nothing. "Is something wrong?"

Yes, many things and all of them are directly due to Four. He doesn't say that though.

"No," he tells Four, unable to face that he's weak to the sad frown on the child's face. Unable to face the fact that in order to do the mission he was meant to do he's going to see that frown much more.

He can't even believe he let himself feel weak- he considered muttering words of love. How disgraceful of him.

...

Three days later he finally musters up his logic and reasoning. He kicks Four out of his bed, his room, his heart. Letting the kid look at him with a frown, with tears in his eyes, confusion written all over him.

"But why Daddy?"

_Daddy._

He hadn't heard Four say that in a while. Seeming as he finally understood that saying that around his siblings was strange.

"This room is unacceptable living quarters for a growing child," he didn't want to face that there was anything more. 

Like the fact that fruit had seemed to be rotten now.

He wanted there to be distance between them. That he needed the distance, needed the air to breathe, needed to remind himself that this isn't what he came to earth for.

Oh, how his wife must be looking down at him.

Four bit his bottom lip as a look of anger flashed over him. Betrayal.

"Do you not like me anymore? Why not? I was good wasn't I?" The child dissolved into sobs.

He says nothing.

...

The next day, without his ties to the child, he dragged him to the mausoleum for training. Hoping to pick up where they left off at their only other time here. But as with most things the child sobbed and screamed and just wouldn't shut up inside.

Luckily it was barely as audible as the chirping of a bird from the outside.

He stood, leaning against his car, cane beside him, and a newspaper in his hands. He's reading the front line story, a 54-year-old man accused of sexually assaulting a 13-year-old boy.

A front line article he can actually relate to...sickeningly. Except he wouldn't consider what he did sexual assault mainly because Four wanted it, begged him Four it really. Four perhaps doesn't fully understand but what he did wasn't forced.

It can't be as bad as what this man did.

This 54-year-old man wandered into this boy's windows during the night, pulled down his covers and molested him while touching himself, exposing himself the sleeping child whom upon awakening screamed and cried for help.

Four had never done such a thing.

"Dad," Four cries from within the mausoleum, hoarse and rough. 

He ignores it.

He had never told Four not to tell. He had never really thought he should, considering he lived all but in a impenetrable bubble. It wouldn't matter if Four told his siblings, it wouldn't matter if Four told every stranger on the block, it would never matter.

He is untouchable.

Yet, he feels like maybe that's one of the reasons he let himself get so far. The fact that at any moment Four could turn on him, making the dance they've been doing a cat and mouse game.

That's what he wants really. The relationship they had was fine. Four being his was great, amazing even, it stroked his ego and all the good ways but...it'd make him feel much more powerful if Four fought back.

If Four clawed at him and cried for mercy. Just the thought of the adrenaline that'd sent to his dick makes him shiver.

...

Four wasn't the same after that training session. He started having nightmares, which of course Reginald only saw through the security cameras because Four didn't talk about them. Four also became distant, no longer following him around or calling towards in his sweet drawn-out way.

It was pure and utter peace. Just the way he liked it. Except the noise Four used to provide was now replace with Five's infamous ego.

"Time travel isn't some unreasonable feat," Five said while following him, his back straight as he kept his temper on the back burner. "Given my capabilities, I'm sure I'm ready for it. I've been practicing my-"

"Five," he sighed, unable to stomach the pure childishness of the conversation. Five was not ready, nor would he be in the next twenty years. Time travel is more complicated and complex than a child could possibly comprehend.

There are many variables that you just can't account for.

"Father I am ready."

Five is not.

He longs for Four's noise again but knows it's better this way.

...

Grace walks into his office bringing him tea. An exotic export from a jungle off the coast of an ocean he was sent from a business partner. It wasn't something he particularly preferred but of earth's delicacies, it was on his list of favorites.

"Reginald," Grace said, strongly, a worried look on her face as she sits the tea down in front of him. 

"What have they done now?" He says as he picks up the cup and takes a sip before sitting it back down, the taste was sweeter than normal, as if she had made it in haste and added accidentally too much honey.

"Nothing like that," she mutters before interlocking her fingers. A nervous mechanism he had never seen her do. "Today sir, Four had come to me to talk about...something that was on his mind."

It clicks all at once and a grimace finds it away on to his features despite the fact that he had considered this possibility numerous times.

"He told me...that he had been feeling filthy lately and-"

"That's enough Grace," he pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to stomach the soft way Grace had when she went about these things. He had designed her to talk to children like that but him- no. It's absolutely disgusting to him. "And you're telling me this why?"

Grace doesn't flinch but he can see the way she wants to. The sudden widening of eyes as her mouth opens but shuts.

"Did you really do something so vile to Four?" She says it with some hint of fire, of anger, it's probably her code to protect the child popping its head up although she was coded not to fight him on any matter.

"And if I did?"

He wanted to know what she'd do. If she evolved. If her anger and disgust are enough to make her do something she was never intended to do.

"I do not pretend to understand your actions but I can not go against them. I do however wish to enlighten you that these actions can have long term effects on the victims of sexual assault."

There's that phrase again.

"Indeed," he sips on his tea again, a sudden flutter somewhere in him gives him a one-way ticket to a growing headache. "I know."

Grace says nothing more but she smiles a fake, terrible smile.

...

Four is quiet, reserved, and always in and out of the bathroom. Seeming to take warm bathes as a coping mechanism for his nonexistent trauma. 

He has started to get closer to Six for reasons he does not know nor wish to know.

...

He didn't see Four often, or any of the children for that matter seeing as he was a busy man but it only takes one moment to spark passion. 

Four lying on the couch, drool dripping down his chin, a pale look to his skin accompanied by bruises, his hair a curly mop, and a small inhale and exhale of breath. It's everything he had forgotten he'd needed. 

Forced himself to forget really.

But his member twitches and he walks into the room just to admire Four's sleeping face, a mess in a room with near perfection.

He leaned down to Four, being taken over with the sudden need to taste the fruit he had once deemed rotten. He kissed the child on the lips, uncaring of the drool that touched him, seeing as he had touched the child's semen before.

The child awakes almost immediately, and instead of a cute, fluffy child, he's met with a scared, grim child. Four tries to push him away, tries to mumble no against his lips but finds himself unable to.

He smoothers Four in one more kiss before pulling away and wiping off his lips. The taste leaves much to be desired.

"Dad please don't do that to me anymore," the child mutters weakly, wiping off his own lips.

"Why not?"

"You...mother said it's not right!"

He reached a hand up to touch four and to have it slapped away sends a spark of electricity up his spine. The fruit smells good enough to eat, to bite into, to ruin even more.

So he does.

He yanks Four into his chest, lets his left hand find purchase in his hair and the right on his lower back, forcing his head to the side and his body against his. He digs his teeth into his neck, hard, letting the metallic taste of blood fill him as Four makes whimpered sounds of pain and he can feel tears hit his shoulder but he doesn't stop.

Not until he hears a creak at the archway. He lets go of Four, gingerly removes his teeth, and Four slouches back on the couch, a broken sort of look falls over him.

The bite mark is red, deep, and bleeding so much that his chest swells with pride.

He turns to see who has interrupted him. It's Grace, who unsurprisingly is caught with a look of sickness that she quickly disregards after he looks at her.

"I should treat that wound," she says, gently, treading on a thin line. He stands, dusting off his knees and gives her a nod. 

Grace ushers Four away with her sweet worrying.

He's left there feeling the most content he's felt in weeks. Having Four's blood in his mouth, on his teeth, down his throat.

It's more than he knew he ever needed.

...

Four attempts to tell his siblings about this, about everything, but they don't believe him in the slightest. Four always cried wolf, always the dramatic.

He watched from the cameras with simple interest.

"You're so sick in the head," Three spit out at Four, her face showing pure disgust.

"Yeah who even thinks to make up stories so disgusting? Dad would never touch anyone like that!" One looks away with a mix of anger and disgust.

"I-I bet you're just so a-attention starved you wished Dad would touch you." 

The children dissolve into laughter, so full of themselves that they don't see how Four falls apart on the floor in front of them. His breathing picks up, his eyes fall shut, tears run down his face and he starts to beg.

"Please I'm telling the truth!"

"You really fingered yourself?" Leave it to Five to pick out one part of Four's confession and use it against him.

Four looks up at him, at his siblings in pure horror and they all just laugh like they've heard the best joke in the world.

He takes notes at his desk. Even though this behavior pleases him greatly, he can't help but feel some sort of ache in his chest, a sudden need to hold Four.

Because seeing Four broken like this...is equally arousing as it is upsetting.

Four moved his hand to his bandaged neck, his fingers twitching like he was about to rip it off and prove it all. At least that's what it looked like he was thinking, but he just dropped his hand lifelessly.

Seeming to give up.

...

Four cut his hair. 

The curls are gone, an act of rebellion if he's ever seen one. Four says nothing about the act but looks at him in a way as if he's meaning to. As if he's begging for attention, the bad kind, the scolding and hatred.

As if Four wishes for his eyes to look down upon him pure unlaced malice. Four is foolish to believe that'd solve all his issues.

...

Four has a nice scar on his neck, a nice indeed of teeth. It fills his heart with pride every time he sees it. Once again Four is his, but not in the same way he was before.

This time he's a possession.

If it feels so right he can't help but wonder if it was always meant to be this way. 

Sexual assault? In legal terms yes. To the rest of the world, definitely. To himself? Undecided.

He'd never claim to be more than he is or less than he is. He's a monster through and through but...some part of him still clings to the idea of the Four that was completely and utterly devoted to him.

Of course, he burned down that bridge and like most things, it's better if he doesn't think about it too long.

Four is his again and that's all that matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will there be another chapter? You’ll have to ask a magic eight ball for the Answer.
> 
> Also sorry all the children are so mean! I swear I love them all <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puberty...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am. Again. So sorry but not really.
> 
> Guess I’ll have to come to terms with the fact that I actually have some urge to write this story to completion.
> 
> Reggie is a little bit of a creep in this chapter so fair warning!

Klaus, Ben, Luther- god must he go on. He knew introducing the children to the public would yield some not so appreciated effects but this. God not even he can tolerate the public's use of their sentimental, and unofficial names.

No matter how many times he corrects the newspaper or the interviewer it just keeps happening. Of course, that's not to say that they don't use their real names, Number One, or their other name such as Spaceboy, but still.

It gave him a headache just being within earshot of a young child screaming Luther over and again. Their eyes lit up with bright adoration and their hands leaning out over the bars trying to get a high five from the passing Umbrella Academy members.

Honestly, at this point, he's second-guessing everything he's ever done.

...

"I'm the cutest," Four says, twirling a piece of ribbon around his finger, it's pink shine making his cheeks seem to reflect it, although they did not. "I've heard the fangirls," Four leans closer to Three, cheekily, his voice held somewhat of an bark of pride.

"As if," Three said pushing Four away fast and swiftly, her hand then grasping four's shoulders, her pointer finger barely scraping the bite mark hidden beneath Four's clothes making him hiss in response. "Huh?" Three said, stopping, seeming surprised that her minimum strength touching led to that terrible noise.

Four brushed off her hand and gave her a grin. "Just teasing you," Four said his eyes gleaming with mischief.

A small fight breaks out on the living room floor. Worksheets on mathematics forgotten while a pencil is held like a makeshift knife to Four’s throat as his body is kept to the floor by Three's weight.

Healthy competition.

Both participants smile while a few siblings eye them up with curiosity and worry. Mainly Six found himself wanting to intervene, his eyes widening as if he was horrified at the fighting, but a simple smile his way from Four settled him back into reading his book.

...

"Would you stop staring at me?" 

He actually didn't believe his ears for a moment, he had been so busy filling out newly offered contracts for the first-ever Umbrella Academy comics that he hadn't even heard Four enter his office. 

A grave mistake if he's ever had one.

"Excuse me?" He locks his eyes with Four's, not entirely upset at the sudden breaking of rules, but the raising of the child's voice. Four had never talked back to him, not like that, not like his words themselves were blades intended on stabbing straight into his heart.

Four wains, his hands seem to get sweaty so he wipes them off on his pants but even then, they tremble. "I mean, I just-" His sentences start but none complete. His eyes that had a fire are now burned out and he can't seem to do anything but be afraid...

As if he was going to purpose something that wasn't going to be well received.

"Stop staring at you?" He questions, humoring Four. He stands and makes his way over to where Four has gone still, his feet seeming to be connected to the floor with enough concrete that he's not even breathing. "You mean you don't like the attention? How can you lie to yourself like that Four? Have you gone ill?"

Four's hand moves to his lips, his fingertips are bitten but the child remains silent. He wants to say something, he wants to scream something, he wants to so badly he shakes but in the same regard his face gets paler with each step closer he gets.

"Father...I," Four swallows hard, so hard that he's sure it's because he's thrown up in his mouth. "Please don't be angry but-"

He placed a hand on Four's shoulder, purposely on the bite mark, making sure the child hissed in pain. "Out with it Four, I've got things to do," he says, lessening his grip just a hair in a way of pretending to be more caring. 

Another hard swallow, a deep breath, and then Four squares up his shoulders and looks deeply into his eyes, as if trying to portray something. "Father I don't want you to like me anymore."

There it is.

He's known. He's known that truth from the moment Four cut his hair in rebellion. The moment Four glared at him hoping for punishment and scolding. When Four received none he most likely assumed that he hadn't understood...but no, he did. 

He just wanted to hear Four say it.

He brought his hand to Four's neck before sliding it underneath his collar and down to the bite mark, rubbing along it with fever. He lets a hum drop from his lips to provide the child with a false sense that he was thinking about what he had said.

He was not.

He was watching the way Four swallowed, his eyes trying to stay still but ultimately darting away more often than not, and then his smell, it's light, fruity, he's never quite smelled it before. He can only imagine it was something a fan had given to Four, somehow, someway.

He found it so pleasing that he leaned down, inhaling the scent until Four made noises of displeasure. "Father please, I said no more."

Did he?

"You're strange," he said, bringing his lips over Four's forehead, feeling the sudden trembling beneath as Four realized this wasn't going as he planned. "Do you believe I'll be swayed by a few words? That your blabbering will matter if I've already come this far. Don't become full of yourself Four," he said, made it real by tipping Four's head up by a hand underneath his chin before sealing their lips together.

"You are mine. Do not forget it."

Four said nothing.

...

A few weeks later, rather unexpectedly, Five ran away.

There was nothing shocking about it, as the child had been rather downright bold with his 'I'm ready' speech but still. It left an impact on the children, a large one.

One blamed himself, not unexpected. Three cried once or twice but seemed to be more content comforting One. Two said little to nothing on the matter but he looked longingly out to the streets as if hoping to find Five there.

Six was devastated, but as usual kept everything to himself, only whispering to Four at night. Four whispered back with equal devastation.

None of that compared to Seven though.

Seven wasted her nights waiting for Five to return. Her heart was aching, hurting with the sudden realization that without Five, she'd have no one.

She worried too much, for within a few weeks the hole in her was filled with Four and Six. A new group had been formed, a new dynamic.

Comfort was what it provided and for a short time, he decided he'd let it be. 

He'd let them mourn.

...

The children were hitting that age.

Puberty as humans called it. When they simply wanted to hump everything that didn't and did move. The first signs that their reproductive system is functioning normally.

A profound phase really.

He didn't necessarily care nor could he force himself to note down his children's behaviors with anything other than scientific curiosity.

The way Two's voice dropped, his shoulders started to fill out. At first, he walked around with such pride, but of course, the rest of his brother's caught up rather fast. They were all of similar age, only a few minutes apart at most.

The girls went through their own ups and downs but Grace saw them through most of that. She reported back to him about their process. Both girls were equally disgusted at periods, afraid, but had come to terms with their mensural cycle by the end of the week. Grace had made sure to tell him to keep pads stocked up because neither child had any interest in talking about the topic with him, and would rather avoid it all costs.

Understandable. He had no interest in it either.

The worse of the phase though had to have been the nightly activities. He hadn't observed their sleeping patterns in a long while, years even, seeing as he had no interest in anything the children did at night until now. Until this phase.

He watched as Two bit his lips, arching his hips towards to bed as his hands slipped underneath the blanket. He moaned softly into his own touch before cumming against his sheets.

Grace would have to clean the rooms more often now, he noted with disgust.

One had more decency, he'd slip away into a bathroom when the urge so hit him. He had manners.

Three didn't do anything as serious as the others. A simple touch-experimental- to her breasts and her cheeks were redden until she flipped over and smothered her face against a pillow. Embarrassment hitting her hard.

Seven and Six had nothing noteworthy to write about.

Then there was Four. Four who would roll over in his sleep and hump a pillow that had somehow ended up between his legs. He'd wake in the middle, always in the middle, and he'd sit up with disgust and push a hand over his mouth to keep himself from spilling his dinner.

His face looked pale, his eyes were locked on his own erection with disgust as if he couldn't believe his body would do such a thing. Then he'd grab himself, hard, and he'd bite down on his whimpers of pain as he scolded himself.

He is disgusted at his own body.

In the back of his mind, he knew what this was. That this had to do with him, with all of the things he's done. He's made Four feel filthy.

None of this comes as a shock to him but sooner or later he's going to have to say it. He's going to have to admit to himself that this is it. This is the result of sexual assault.

A terrible taste it will be in his mouth.

It took a month for the phase to die out and normal life to return. He had boxed up all the tapes, determined to burn them later. The cameras were turned off afterward, to provide privacy.

...

Four didn't want anyone to know something was wrong. He had seen them all laugh at him once, he had known how it hurt to feel them turn their back on him, so he decided he'd pretend it was alright.

He did this in unhealthy ways.

Often he witnessed, like he was right now, Four running up to a fan and sticking his face out over the railing in clear violation of the rules to kiss a girl who was cooing at him. Two slapped the back of his head, as always, and pulled him away in disgust.

"Keep it in your pants," Two said, whispered low really, "can't you see that not everyone wants you."

"Please," Four said, fake confidence seeping through, "I know people who would pay to suck on-"

"Four," he scolds, looking back with a sharp glare. 

Four swallows hard and looked towards the ground in embarrassment.

He protected himself with a rather stupid self-defense mechanism in his opinion. Four was disgusted at sexual acts and so in order to make himself less vulnerable, he threw himself at every sexual fuelled opportunity. Instead of avoiding them, instead of being distant to them as he had been in his powers.

Absolutely stupid and utterly strange.

How did Four believe this to be the answer to his problem? How could Four truly believe that if he acted like some sort of back-alley cat that his siblings wouldn't raise an eyebrow?

Somehow Four had been correct.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been working on practicing different writing styles so this probably doesn’t exactly flow as perfectly with the other chapters. Eventually I’ll be back to rewrite it so it all flows together properly but until then my sincere apologies.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is not nice :(

He was never a possessive person...well if that were really true he supposes his first instincts wouldn't be to bathe Four for an hour and force him to scrub at his lips until they were raw and bleeding. But here he is, letting Four use his personal bathroom, watching as Four scrubs at his lips with discomfort.

"Father," Four says, somehow sounding like he's longing for something. Like a kiss, like something to cure him of his sins. 

The terrible disgusting deed he did when he let someone else kiss him.

So he leans down beside Four and stares at him. Four doesn't react much at first, only jumping mildly before taking a deep breath and covering his chest with his arms. He sat like there for a while, then his lips twitched and again he looked towards him in wanting.

"Do you want me to make it better?" He asked, knowing Four was close to breaking.

Four simply nodded.

He leaned in and locked their lips together for a mere second, nothing more. It's just a peck, just meant to comfort Four. Four whose body rejected acts of affection from strangers because of his 'past experiences.' 

He knows it's all his fault. Of course, it is. But just seeing how much Four still depended on him even after all his protests was a welcomed sight.

So he didn't push the matter. He let the fact that Four had so cruelly kissed someone else go.

...

Sometimes he thought Six might know. 

It was the way Six side glanced at him sometimes, looking at him in curiosity yet suspicion. As if Six was trying to answer a question that no one knew the answer of.

He highly doubted Six really knew. Even though Four had grown to close to him and they often chatted in private. He doubted Four told him everything. 

It was probably something like Six asking what was wrong and Four mumbling something about Dad. 

So six stared at him often, trying his very best to figure out what it was that bothered Four so badly. Unfortunately for him, the answer was so well hidden behind his usual tough love that Six found nothing. 

So Six remained obedient in his training, as always, just a little suspicious.

...

The Umbrella Academy was invited to their first 'ball' six weeks after their debut. It was a simple thing, a formality, a way of welcoming them into the new class of rich folks who adored their little crime solvers.

So, of course, they had to go. The more allies the better as it goes for war.

The main problem was the fact that none of the children could dance to save their life. Seeing as he had grossly miscalculated the need for such a skill. 

Grace didn't mind giving them lessons in classic ballroom dancing.

One and Three picked up on the actions easily. Their dance was synchronized, never once did their footsteps fall out of line. It was almost as if they had done it before, but quite frankly he wasn't too interested in going down that train of thought.

Six and Four took a little more help. Grace had to repeatedly remind Four that the goal was slow and steady, and of course to make sure the place of the hands was correct. Four groaned every time Grace reminded him.

Two danced with Grace and occasionally he stepped on her feet and apologized pathetically with reddening cheeks. Grace's motors practically cooed each time Two seemed to drop his masculinity for even a fraction of a second.

He was content to watch from the sidelines. Seven by his side, a frown on her lips as she watched. "Why can't I go too?" She asked, her eyes full of longing as she watched her siblings perform extraordinary dancing along their pretend ballroom floor. 

"Seven you are an ordinary child. There would be no place for you in an environment like that."

"Okay," the child sighed heavily as if she might push the matter, but she decided not to.

The ride to the ball had been filled with his children's bubbling excitement. They murmured amongst themselves as if forgetting every rule and manner he had ever taught them. But one look at Four made his heart do this funny thing like it stopped in his chest for a moment, but he knows it didn't. 

Four keeps pawing at his suit with irritation. Clearly hating the heavy fabric compared to the normal uniform. It did make him look...quite grown up though. Like Four finally was starting to seem less like a child and more like a sprouting teen.

As soon as they stepped foot into the ballroom they were surrounded. The children were almost pulled apart as mobs formed around each of them and asked many, many questions. Most of which were personal and invaded some sort of law but he had faith his children would answer as they rehearsed so he left them to the wolves.

He procured himself a glass of wine and continued to brood at a round table, draped in a white cloth in a corner of the room. His eyes drifting ever so often between his children, between his newly official soldiers.

Nearly half an hour later, One broke free from the group to dance with a young woman. Three was the next to dance, and then Two. Eventually, all the children took the dance floor, including Four, who was extremely uncomfortable with the man who had attached himself to his side.

Four smiled and laughed, his cheeks were rosy pink, so much so that anyone would have to assume that he was happy. That he enjoyed letting this man spin him around the dance floor. But Four didn't.

It was in subtle movement of Four's fingers that really told of his discomfort. The way he seemed to want to bite at his nails. The man, however, didn't see this and continued to whisper things to Four that made the child pale.

The man leaned down, still whispering sweet nothings before moving closer to Four as if he's going to lock their lips together. Four just stands there dumbly, frozen in fear, unable to process if what he thinks is going to happen is.

He doesn't see the outcome of it due to a reporter that walks by at that moment, blocking his line of sight. He takes another sip of his wine before making his way over to a group of potential business partners.

He makes small talk.

...

By the time he's deemed them to have spent an appropriate amount of time there. He rounds up the children, only realizing then that he's missing one.

Four.

He scans the room, only finding the man sulking at a table, a clear red handprint on his cheek. Four nowhere to be found. There is however a side door off to the right, that is most likely a supplies closet.

"Behave yourselves," he instructs the children while waving off their looks of curiosity. Of course, they noticed Four was missing.

He made his way to the closet, ignoring the staring of a few people. He opens the door, peering inside, and of course, there's four, sitting on the floor against the furthest wall, his head on his knees, his fingernails bloody. 

"Four it's time to leave," he says, taking a step inside, the door closing behind him. Four makes no move to get up, he just makes a sound, something broken and small.

"Number Four, we mustn't overstay our welcome," another step in, another broken noise from Four.

"Number Four!"

Four's head shoots up, his lips curled down in a frown, tears running down his cheeks, his eyes seeming to be pleading for something. "Is it all my fault?"

He says nothing.

Four laughs into his knees, muffling his voice as his fingers dig into the floor, letting blood paint the floorboards. "Please dad tell me..." he begs, practically begs with his eyes. He sits up some and sways in place. "Why do people want to do those things to me?"

He sighs, pressing a hand over his forehead for a moment before taking another step towards Four, the child not even flinching anymore. He leans down and places a hand in Four's hair before petting.

Four mumbles something underneath his breath as more tears cascade down his face. Some of the tears run across his bitten lips, making them glisten.

"It's all your fault," he tells Four, watching in satisfaction when Four's go wide, his breathing hitching. "You draw people in. It's your smile, your laughter, your tears," he leans in closer, pressing his lips to Four's, tasting his salty tears. "You have no one to blame but yourself."

Four breaks into sobs, he says words but they aren't understandable.

...

Seven paced along the second-floor railing each time her siblings left for a mission. She always tried to keep busy of course, violin, reading, but she always ended up right back there.

Grace told him about it. All about Seven worrying so heavily sometimes that she'd end up working herself into a panic.

He simply suggested she take another pill when Seven felt this way.

...

"Father," One prods him, unintentionally, of course, his tone is all but menacing. "During our last mission, Six refused to use his powers putting all of us at risk."

Interesting.

"I'll take care of it," he says, really waves One off. 

...

Six did his training as usual. No signs that he didn't want to or that he was more uncomfortable than usual. He was covered in blood, head to toe, rabbit blood, and although he looked absolutely disgusting, he seemed to be okay.

He on the other hand, often had to bring his hand to his mouth to prevent himself from being sick. The simple slaughter was gut-wrenching in the worst ways. The smell of death, the smell of blood, the way the rabbits squealed in pain until their final breaths.

Six says nothing.

He figures the problem must be something internal but has better things to than prod his brain.

"Again," he barks out, and Six doesn't even flinch.

...

It was nearly a week later before Four decided to stop avoiding him. If he had been before. He isn't entirely sure as he had been busy, but now the child follows him around, giving him strange looks.

"Four," he'd say and the child would look away and act as if he had not been staring.

It got so bad that he even followed him into his office and sat in the chair in front of his desk and stared at him. For hours. 

Jut staring. Just wanting to speak. Just wanting to do something he always stopped himself from doing. "Four," he finally breaks, sighing as he shut his journal. "Do you wish to speak with me about something?"

"I want an allowance," bold, harsh, Four's voice projected over the room as he gave him a glare. 

He almost laughed. It was comical really. That's why Four followed him around all day? For an allowance?

"What for? So you can buy junk food and candy? So you can fill your brain with inappropriate magazines? So you can-" he stops, his train of thought completely derailing at the very realization that Four might use the money to escape.

"No," he stands before moving to Four swiftly, needing to be close. His hands already on his neck, his fingers moving to his bite mark, he traces the indent of his teeth again and again as Four squirms in discomfort.

"But-" he kisses Four, stopping his protests. Four immediately slaps him, hard, a stinging sensation left on his cheek.

He grabs Four's arm and pulls before slamming Four against the desk, using his body weight to pin Four down as he struggles and knocked off a pen or two to roll along the floor. He forces Four's legs open with his hips before he slips his right hand between his legs, rubbing at Four's dick.

"Stop it," Four protests, kicks and cries. Tears rolling down his face before he can even realize his fighting is getting him nowhere. 

"No," he says, slipping his hand into Four's pants, stroking Four until his cries turn to mumbled moans of pleasure. Beneath his hand Four's dick is hardening, turning into a pretty little erection for him to feel.

Pride surges in his veins. 

"You need to be reminded of who you belong to," he said, pushing down all of Four's undergarments before undoing his own pants. 

"No."

He digs his teeth into his previous bite mark, breaking skin again, forcing Four to cry out in pain. His right hand is pushing down his own undergarments while his right is prodding at Four's entrance. Blood rushes into his mouth as Four pushes against him, hard, but he just bites down even harder, silencing Four's protests.

He leans back then, blood dripping down his chin, and Four lays against the desk motionlessly, a distant look in his eyes. The look of someone who has given up, because they know they are beaten.

He fingers Four for a brief moment before lining up his own half-hard erection before forcing himself inside. Four made noises of pain and mumbled words of stop and please no but his eyes remained distant.

He knew this would hurt Four. He's not nearly prepared enough, or ready mentally, but it doesn't matter. It's supposed to hurt. 

This is a punishment.

He props up Four's hips against his own knees for a better angle while thrust again and again into Four, ruining his innocence. Four just cried silently, blood making a puddle on his desk from his bite marks, and soon enough blood was dripping out of his entrance, acting as lube, making the experience turn just the slightest bit pleasurable.

...

Four touched his own entrance, cringing at the blood and semen that he coated his fingers. He moved gingerly around the room, getting dressed, he swayed with each step as if he was going to faint.

He wiped up the blood on his desk with a handkerchief but Grace would have to do a deeper cleaning later. 

Four said nothing as he left. He wasn't even crying anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I’m going to take a bath now that I’m throughly disgusted.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There’s a lot to unpack here and I’m not really sure what to even say.
> 
> I guess I’ll warn that there’s Allison doing something that’s inappropriate in one scene but it’s explained later (but still inappropriate nonetheless.)
> 
> If there are any typos my apologies! I’m still typo checking it~

He could never truly care about Four. It was simply impossible, at least right now, at least with the mindset he's had for so long.

Four is a possession. Nothing more, nothing less. He's play dough, he's moldable, and yet his shape is never permanent.

...

Four becomes ill over the coming weeks, nothing to say about a cause, but the child's cheeks paled and he had thrown up once or twice in the toilet. Just barely making it there in time. A 103-degree fever kept him from doing much but fainting when he tried to make it to dinner. 

So he had become bedridden.

Four didn't mind being confined to his bed, he actually enjoyed the time off from missions but most importantly the amount of medication he was given. He was sky-high into heaven and he had no interest in coming down anytime soon. Despite the fact that he was no doubly getting rusty with his powers since, strangely enough, the drugs seem to nullify them almost completely.

Sometimes he would watch the child sleep. The way Four's neck would glisten with sweat as his bandages moved, the way Four's lips relaxed, the way Four seemed to be so small in his bed. 

Just a child with a cold.

Other times he would simply glance inside Four's room, watching as Four learn to knit from Grace. He made undignified pink atrocities but Grace encouraged him nonetheless.

...

"Five would have been a coffee drinker," Two says, arming his side with blades. 

Four rolls over and eyes him up with curiosity.

"Just hear me out-" Two sits down on the side of Four's bed whilst placing his mask on his face. The fabric was irritating most of the time. "Five would definitely have been a businessman. You know? Drinking coffee in the morning before going to up his penthouse suite or whatever. He'd have made a wicked CEO."

Four snorts and raises his hand, dismissing Two's opinion. "Listen, Five would have definitely enjoyed vodka. It would have definitely done wonders to lighten up his shit-eating ego."

Now it's Two's turn to snort.

"It's no fun without you," Two said as he stood to leave, to go on a mission without his favorite of brothers.

Four gave a faint noise of acknowledgment.

...

One never talked about any troubles they had without Four. So he didn't prod but he had a sinking suspicion that Four was never that useful anyway. 

For what it's worth he was trained in combat but that didn't matter when he chose to be a lover over a fighter even though he could have been both.

...

By the third week, Seven had taken to Four, allowing him to be blessed with her musical genius. Or so he assumes she believes her self to have.

Four didn't mind.

...

By the time Four actually decided to become a productive member of society, his hair had finally started to grow out. Little curls sprouted from his scalp and occasionally he pulled on them in distaste at the dinner table.

Just another thing Four didn't like about himself.

...

Four, well and healthy again. Decided the best course of action was to slip away during the night, out Five's window and into the great outdoors.

Understandably, he was quite uncomfortable when he had come to get the children for their morning training only to find Four missing. For a moment something like guilt hit him, but of course, it was completely overshadowed by his anger that Four would disregard his authority.

He carried on training, as usual, seeing no point in getting worked up over Four. If he never returned it would be no great loss for the Umbrella Academy after all.

Not to say that he himself didn't feel the immediate loss of warmth the house had.

...

Four returned the next day, rather surprisingly. A few new bruises on his arms and a split lip but he held something close to his side. A small baggy of something and once asked about it was completely dismissive.

"None of your business," Four snapped, burying the bag in his bedside drawer before stomping off to the nearest bathroom. "I'd really like to get cleaned up if you don't mind," More spiteful words as Four slams the door shut.

Absolutely disobedient.

Yet, it was somehow...pleasing. To be fought, to, for a moment, lose some semblance of control. 

Two days in the mausoleum was a fitting enough punishment. Four is much more obedient afterward.

...

"Fuck," Four said, repeated to the heavens as if it was meant to be a prayer before he brought the blunt to his lips again. His room absolutely reeked now and his siblings avoided it at all costs.

Grace fixes the bandages around Four's neck, she tries her best to smile. "Oh sweetheart," she coos, her hands gingerly rewrapping the bandages. "I'm so sorry that-" her words are lost in her throat, something that should be physically impossible, but when her code conflicts like this, the need to protect and the need to obey, it's bound to happen.

"Don't, Just don't," Four's eyes locked with his and he stared hopelessly at him.

_Leave me alone_

If only Four could understand. He only wants the best for him. That's all he's ever wanted.

...

He brought down Four to the unground space he liked to use for their more messy training sessions. Mainly he brought Five down when he was working on his time jumps but it had been a long time since then.

"It's dusty," Four coughed, making his statement have some grain of truth. 

"Sit," he gestured to the single chair in the center of the room, wooden, with middle cuffs used to restrain unruly children. Four-eyed it up with suspicion, his posture changing from loose to tight before back to loose as he sat down.

The fact that he was under the influence of drugs greatly helped.

He didn't cuff Four down, finding it would be pointless. Although the thought of doing so brings him enjoyment.

"Is this blood?" Four asks, rubbing a dried red spot on one of the cuffs.

Grace walks through the door before shutting it behind herself. She hums as she rolls in a machine, one Four has seen a handful of times during these sessions.

Four has grown to know it as a 'lie detector.' It isn't exactly the most accurate thing but it had been driven so hard into Four since childhood that he's come to fear it without any real proof that it's real.

Classical Conditioning at its finest.

"Five's."

Four said nothing in return, his eyes just drooped in a half-lidded manner and a small breath left his lips, as if perhaps he had been holding it in.

Grace attached a probe to Four's chest and one to his forehead before she took a few steps back. She smiled innocently, attempting to provide Four with some reassurance that nothing bad would happen.

"What do the undead tell you?" It is a simple statement, a loaded one of course, but it was a common reason for Four to be in that chair. It's fascinating how the undead's thoughts change over the years.

First, seeing Four as a savior and now? They seem to prefer spiting in Four's direction than praising the wonder child as they had once done.

Four shifts uncomfortable for a few minutes, seeming to sober up at the question. "It's okay sweetheart, take your time," Grace coos to the child, despite being told she was not to speak.

An oversight on his behalf. Of course, Grace couldn't stand by while Four made it clear he was uncomfortable.

"Well...lately they've," Four swallows, eyeing up the machine with fear. 

He takes out his journal from his suit and prepares to take notes. He taps his pen along the white pages, silently urging Four on. Despite Grace's forgiveness, they did not, in fact, have all day to do this.

Or more accurately they do have all day but he is not going to waste it on this.

"Sometimes they tell me it's all my fault. That if I didn't want to be-" Four's fingers dig into his palm, leaving moon-shaped indents in their wake- "touched like a whore I should stop acting like one."

He doesn't write this down.

"Sometimes they tell me if they could touch me they would. They'd show how a real man fucks and if they’re female, they baby me. Tell me I'm just so adorable that they'd never break me...they'd make sure to ride me nice and slow."

Tears prick Four's eyes, he shifts in discomfort in his seat. "Sometimes they even tell me I'm lucky to have gotten a sugar daddy like you." Another shift of discomfort as his nails break his skin. "They say if I had better manners you'd have given me the world but instead I chose to be a little bitch about it."

He writes nothing down. Thoroughly disgusted at the things Four has been listening to. How long? How long had the ghosts that followed Four been this vicious?

No wonder the child wanted them to go away.

Grace's face turns to disgust as she scoops Four into her arms and embraces him. She whispers words of love to him as Four buries his face in her chest.

He watches for a while, simply taken back by the reality of it all. It was different when he said these things but when other people did? It fired up a possessive side of himself he rarely knew he had.

Four is the only one who ever makes him feel like this.

...

He had been pondering what it all meant to him. If the undead's opinion held any regard considering they were all just pinning after something they would never have but- still. He wanted to tie Four to his bed, lavish him with kisses and-

There's a knock at his office door, bringing his fantasy to a standstill.

"Dad?" Three called, a hurt tone to her voice as she knocked once again. "Please can we talk?"

He sighed, staring into the flickering fire as he thought. It would need more wood soon but he didn't really feel like doing that. Or talking with Three for that matter but the urgency in her voice made him consider it.

For she rarely talked to him about complaints.

"Come in," he sighed afterward, leaning up in his chair to make sure he had proper posture. He is a role model after all.

He nearly bit his tongue when he got a glimpse of Three. Her shirt that was always buttoned up, was splayed open letting her breasts be visible, seeing as she didn't have the decency to wear a bra. Her hair was messy, it curled around her in a way like it was trying to consume her. Some of it even stuck to her forehead as sweat accumulated on her skin, down her arms, down her legs.

The worst part though was the fact her skirt was definitely not one which went along with her uniform. This one is short, allowing just the faintest glimpse at her underwear.

Disgusting

"Number Three!" He stands, slamming his hands off his desk in anger. So disgusted at her appearance, the fact that she had come to him looking like a whore. She was far too young to-

She wrapped a hand around her chest, biting her lip as she pressed her breasts together, letting just the slight slip of her nipples to be visible. "Dad I-"

He's to her in four steps and she doesn't even flinch when he grasps her wrist and pulls in scolding. "Please dad," she coos, moving closer to him, "my tummy hurts. Won't you make it better?" With each word he tightens the grip on her wrist, with each word his stomach sinks, with each word...he wants to make Three bleed.

He can't help but wrack his mind on this. What would make her do something so vile? To come to him like this, to come to him and beg to be touched like this. He can't help but wonder if their home had been invaded and there were enemies amongst them.

"Dad," she pants, pressing closer against him until her chest is touching him and-

He pushes her away, hard, she stumbles back before cracking her head off the door with a loud thud. She holds her head as she starts to sob incoherently, blood leaks onto her fingers, not enough to be alarming to him, but enough that her eyes fired up with worry.

"You are disgusting," he said, it was really the only thing he could manage without his stomach threatening to spill his dinner. "How dare you come to me in this condition. You should be ashamed."

She stayed silent for a moment before standing, no further protests as she bows in apology as she turns to leave. He grasps her arm and eyes up the bruises forming on her wrist. 

It's not enough.

A creak somewhere down the hall takes him from his thoughts though. Nothing is there but it gave him a strange feeling. For a moment he was sure there were eyes on him.

"If you wish to dress like a whore you will work like one. Do not expect to sleep tonight. You will scrub every inch of the kitchen on your knees until it is spotless."

...

Three dressed back up in her usual uniform, her hair tied up all fancy. She scrubbed the floors, on her knees, occasionally wiping the sweat from her face. 

She didn't say anything.

He sipped on his tea for a moment before dumping the entirety of the cup on the floor. Can't let her off too easy.

Three begins to soak up the mess without question.

...

"I hate you," Three spat at Four, her lips curling in absolute disgust. "I really tried to believe you, Klaus but god. I made myself look like an idiot! Dad was so disgusted by me!"

"Allison I just- I thought- maybe Dad just liked kids." Four mumbles, looking away from Three's eyesight. "He's...Dad could be into boys. I just figured it wouldn't matter-"

"Just stop! Klaus, it's all in your head. Dad doesn't like kids, Dad doesn't like guys, and most importantly dad doesn't even like you! I bet you just laughed at me the whole time I was believing your sob story!”

"I just wanted you to see that dad-"

"That Dad is normal? That dad is just a little old fashioned? What do you want Klaus? Nothing happened! You were wrong."

Four said nothing. Three said nothing.

Three srubbed at her skin before mumbling something about rumoring dad’s memories away of that disgraceful moment of weakness she had.

He left them to brood, giving no indication that he had even heard their conversation. He hadn't meant to overhear anything. He was only there because he felt like punishing Three again.

Yet, knowing it was all Four's idea made him hunger even more. Knowing Four was trying so hard to make everyone believe. Knowing Four would risk his friendship with Three to get her to see the truth?

It was all very pleasant to him...reminding him of the fantasy he had forgotten.

...

He had Grace's head in his lap, his fingers working in her chest, inside her hardware, readjusting her just the littlest bit. Making sure when he told her to remind silent next time, she would.

"Reginald," she said, her voice a static tone as half her core processors are currently offline. 

"Yes?" He removed his hands as he finished, wiping off the oil on his pants. 

She remained still, head in his lap, her eyes blinking up to him innocently and he wondered how nice it would be for Four to do this. To be this obedient.

The thought, it added to the Fantasy. 

He considered making another robot, making a little Number Four, one who he could shape through inorganic ways to be the perfect mate for him. The perfect being he desires.

He trails his hands across her chest, underneath her dress, she doesn't flinch, even as he begins to kneed at her flesh. "Four isn't coping well with your methods of training," she says, nothing to indicate that she even cares that he's touching her.

Soft, pale flesh. It is synthetic but practically real. The only difference is that there isn't warm blood being pumped underneath, just cold oil.

"Sir," she said as his hands explored lower, his fingertips just gliding down her belly until they land on her thighs. "Do you wish for me to undress?" Her voice is light and her cheeks turn pink as she starts to stimulate what he believes is arousal. It isn't real of course. It isn't even due to her own wanting.

He is her master and she simply does as she believes he would like.

"No," he says, removing his hands from her with a sigh.

It wouldn't be the same, he realizes, if he built Four. Nothing would be the same. A machine has a predictiveness that just isn't as exciting as an organic human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I’m empty inside now.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm this was supposed to be a fluffy chapter...but it went wrong so I’m sorry. Hopefully there is some comfort next chapter.
> 
> Warning for mentions of self-harm/suicide.

Another ball, another group of vultures pick at the children. Asking personal questions, such as their love life, and their opinion on sexuality.

He keeps to himself, watching the children's expressions as they try their best to answer as they have been instructed.

At some point he's done with his wine, which he only sips on to keep up appearances, and goes to stand to get more, only to have Four appear at his side. Four who has his hands behind his back, his shoulders straight, and his lips curled into a sly smile. 

The child was planning something disastrous. "What is it?" He sits back down, rubbing his finger over the glass rim of his cup in pretend thought.

Four came closer, before leaning in, and whispering with a sweet little melody "Daddy."

His finger stops its circular motion and instead, he adjusts his Monocle and ignores whatever Four was attempting to prod at.

"Can I drink wine too?" Four continues on, completely skipping over the 'daddy,' as if it had not occurred.

"Do as you wish," he waved off Four's glow. The child grinned as he left, a little hop to his skip as he wandered to the buffet table and poured himself a glass of wine. No one questioned Four, it's not as if alcohol can be much worse than the abundance of drugs Four consumes.

_Sugar Daddy_

He tries to ignore that thought but finds there may be a truth there somewhere, hidden underneath layers of lies.

...

Four was bubbly for the rest of the night, always hanging off his siblings. Mostly stuck to Six's side, holding his hand, rubbing against him like a cat, and muttering some sort of false praise, oftentimes telling Six that he was Four's favorite brother.

Six, of course, didn't really mind Four's behavior, although the child did cringe every time he smelled the alcohol on Four's breath. 

"I wish you wouldn't do things like this," Six said, rubbing his hand through Four's curls. "It seems very...destructive."

Four says nothing, just laughs a little while turning his face away, as to not let Six see the sudden conflict that flashed across his face.

Four sobered up and spent the remainder of the night on the balcony, alone, sipping on wine that most likely left a sour taste in his mouth as he tried his best to stay on a plain between reality and fantasy.

...

Soon enough it's the anniversary of Five's disappearance. It is left unsaid, but the children seem to be grimmer that day. Seeming to wander outside Five's room, looking inside.

They feel guilt and sadness but keep it to themselves. Only Seven cries this day, out on the concrete steps with Grace, as she holds a plate of Five's favorite sandwich.

Six and Four comfort her at night with a hug before bed.

...

He presses Four against a bookshelf in the living room before locking their lips together. His hands pushing down Four's pants as the metallic clicking of the dining room drawls in. All the children are currently eating lunch, just feet away from his personal enjoyment.

His hand traces Four's bare thighs pale, and soft. He squeezes the left thigh tightly until Four hisses in his mouth, ensuring to himself that he'll surely leave a mark on that untouched skin. 

He stops kissing Four in favor of kissing a spot on his neck, right above the bite mark that still fills him with pride at the sight. His heart is fluttering in his chest in a painful way because he knows it isn't supposed to.

Emotions clutter reason and lead to poor decisions.

"Don't you wish to call for help?" He inquires, nipping at Four's ear, gaining him a satisfying yelp.

"Of course I want to," Four says, pushing gently against his chest with his hands, the pressure is filled with hesitation. "I think the shame would be enough to kill me...if anyone saw."

He hums in acknowledgment as he kisses Four again, this time tasing the salt of tears that had tracked across Four's lips. "I doubt they'd believe it anyway...even if they saw it with their own eyes," Four whispered to him, his voice wavering with pain. "They hate me."

"You're wrong," he palms Four's semi-hard erection half-heartedly. "They would believe you without a doubt of their mind...but it'd hurt them so much. What would they do but feel so disgusted in themselves for not believing you before. Just imagine how hard Three would take it...or Six."

He locks his eyes with Four as the child's face goes considerably pale, his eyes are wide with fear. "I bet six would slit his wrists, knowing how much you suffered while he ignored all your pleads for help. They'd all be devastated, don't you think?"

Four makes no sounds. Not a single sound as tears stream down his face, his body completely putty beneath his hands.

...

"I hate children," he muttered as he watched Two punch Three, knocking Three's hairpin off. It shattered into pieces when it hit the ground. Three growls before clawing Two's arm, blood drips onto the dirt, making bloody mud piles in the courtyard. 

Training always leaves him much more relaxed than before. Just being blessed with the sight of improvement and good combat skills. Of course, there was always blood, and it sometimes upset his stomach. Not that he would mention that to these little humans who deem themselves smart although they know very little of the world around them.

Children are non-logical, empathetic, and most disgustingly emotional.

Four stands beside him, waiting for a sparring partner to become available. No one particularly cared to spare with Four because he was not serious-ever, and they wouldn't gain anything from it.

Four hasn't spoken to him at all since their last conversation. He's clearly gained a conscious and now has it in his head that his own actions are not just reflections of himself but others. 

Four doesn't want anyone to get hurt because of him. It's clear with how quiet he's become, how obedient, how statue like his movements are. He is terrified of upsetting the fragile balance of things.

Then Four does something unexpected. He turns to him, his lips trembling for a moment but he licks them and takes a deep breath to calm himself.

"Do you think we could invest in a pet?" Four asks, mumbles more like, and it occurs to him that Four is trying to act like everything is normal. It's the only way Four has ever been able to cope; lying to himself.

"No."

"Figures," Four sighs, rubbing a hand through his unruly curls, a small hint of discomfort comes from his actions, but that's nothing compared to the glassy look in his eyes. "Must you suck the fun out of everything?"

He said nothing but Four continues on as if he had. Rambling on about the implications of what having a dog might bring to the Umbrella Academy.

None of Four's reasons were good ones.

...

By the next week, Four had disappeared. Completely gone without a trace, as Four would have hoped at least, but it's clear he went on one of his drug escapes. Yet, he had been gone for at least 48 hours, not that he was counting, and Four usually never left more than the night.

It was suspicious.

The children too became unsettled, their conversation turned to concern and conspiracy theories on what could have driven Four to run away for good- like Five did. "I bet it was Allison's fault! She's always bullying him for his looks!" Two glares at Three.

Three sputters as pink consumed her face. "That's nonsense! We were only playing, Klaus knows I'm not serious! I bet he ran away because you're always using him as a punchline! How many times have you told him something that wasn't true just make him suffer for your own enjoyment?!"

Two clinched a blade to his side, as he growls at Three. "It's n-not like that," he stutters a bit, getting all worked up over Three.

One said nothing.

Six sighs, his eyes drifting between his siblings as he closed his book. "I think he was just tired," Three and Two looks at him, tears glassing over their eyes for unknown reasons. Perhaps they realized they weren't nice to Four, or they are consumed by anger by the fact that the other sibling who would suggest such a thing.

The conversation goes cold.

...

That night, Four returned, his skin as pale as the moonlight, and his eyes were wide with something. Something he'd never seen before, but he'd say it truly looked as if the child had met death.

Four bathed for a considerable amount of time, hummed a distant toon, and ignored the whole world until he collapsed in his bed when the sun began to rise. He was dead to the world for a few hours, completely ignoring the breakfast bell.

...

Four days in the mausoleum and Four seems to be coping better. He didn't scream for help, he didn't cry in a corner, he just stared at a darkened spot on the wall and ignored the undead who begged for his attention.

The child was finally showing improvement.


	7. Chapter 7

"Can I have permission to speak freely?" Grace asks as she sits down his dinner in front of him, for once, he chose to work through the pass time in his office.

He doubts his children will miss him.

"Of course," he said, cutting up his steak as she poured his tea. "I would not want you to speak with a censor.”

Grace nods, a small motherly hum leaves her lips as she takes a step back. He eats a piece of steak. It's rather dry tonight, he notes with annoyance.

"Well sir, as you most certainly know my two main objectives are to protect the children and obey your commands. I have begun to struggle with sorting out these objectives."

He sips on his tea and she pauses for a moment to gather her thoughts.

"Once in a great while, you do something that greatly puts the children at risk for injury, or you perform inappropriate acts with them as with Number Four. I am uncertain if I am performing adequately enough, each time you do one of these acts, for it goes against my objectives in a confusing way."

He nods with agreement, this is, in fact, true, but he figured she would sort it out on her own. As she was programmed to evolve and adapt to any situation. Yet, she had never attempted to stop any of these acts.

"You mustn't worry too much Grace. The children are not as weak as you see them. They will surely bounce back from any acts that push their limits, as they have always done before."

Grace nods but she still looks uncertain, her smile particularly is not a happy one, but one forced by her programming when she could not manage one herself. "But sir, is it wrong for me to feel emotions of guilt and anger? I know these feelings are nothing more than stimulations of human emotions, but-"

"That is for you to decide. I will not guide you along every step of the process, but if these emotions prove too troublesome I will remove them."

Grace stiffened up at that and simply nodded in response.

He went back to his dinner, which had gone cold, and his tea wasn't as warm. It made for a poor quality meal and he couldn't help but develop a headache.

...

When the children have troubles they go to Grace. Late at night, they'll sit by her legs while she lounges in her chair, admiring the paintings. She'll rub a hand through their hand and listen to their worries.

"Sometimes I feel like a monster," Six tells her, his eyes shut, his head against her legs. "It's even worse during the missions where I'm covered in blood and...my siblings flinch away from me...as if it was me who did the murders and not the creature inside."

"You aren't the same as it," Grace assures him with her sweet motherly voice. "I'm sure they know that too, don't worry sweetheart. You'll always be their brother above everything life throws at you, and them."

Six falls asleep against her leg.

Grace hums a tone and catalogs the conversation.

...

Four is distant.

He pretended he was fine, continued to be playful and upbeat with his siblings, even allowing them to give him small hits on the back of the head and pinches of anger when for a moment they thought they had lost him.

He just laughs and takes it all.

Never once saying what had happened on his adventure in the streets. Never once speaking about what made him have that glassy-eyed distant look.

...

"What do you have to say about the allegations of child abuse?" A reporter shoves a microphone towards him, rudely.

Number one quickly knocks it away. "The Monocle is taking no interviews at this time," One gives a smile before walking away, standing by his side to prevent any more incidents.

Behind him, he can faintly hear Three rumoring the reporter that the allegations never existed. As always, Three is best suited for dealing with their public image.

...

The allegations were all due to the children's young ages. Most people were unhappy with the fact that the children were fighting crime in highly dangerous situations, which could result in death.

Children couldn't possibly be allowed to do that legally, they would argue. And they would be right of course, normal children wouldn't be allowed but Extraordinary ones?

No government would ever protest what he's doing. They have just as much interest in these scientific wonders as he does.

...

He brought Four with him back to his office while he did his paperwork. Simply desiring something nice to look at and feeling the need to keep Four close. 

Four sat in the armchair in front of the desk, quiet, obedient, his left knee propped up on the chair and his head leaning against it, his eyes already closed. He has bags underneath his eyes, most likely meaning his nightmares have returned, but he has not personally said as much.

His breaths are even, his chest moves up and down fluidly, constant. He's a picture of innocence, or more accurately the lack of it. He's been drained of his childish naivety and left a shell of the warmth he once held.

He'll never be as innocent as he once was, but he'll continue to pretend he is, for he has never been taught another way to cope. Or more accurately, the only other way he knows is violence but that's never suited Four's peaceful ways.

He wanders over to Four, the child remains still, not an ounce of tension. "Four," he whispers, nudging the child's shoulder lightly. "Please move to the bed if you are tired. Sleeping in the chair will only result in a strained muscle."

Four awakes slowly, blinking up at him for a few seconds before laughing softly, sadly. "Now you care about my wellbeing, how convenient," the child stands, stretching, before walking a few feet through the open office doors to his bed, which he falls on lifelessly. 

"Sorry," the child mumbles, giving a small wave of dismissal. "I know, I know, it's all my fault I'm daddy's favorite nuisance."

Four is soft, no tension in his body as he lays across the bed, his eyes shut and his hair sprawling out in every direction. He looks tired, so done with reality he'd rather drown his trouble in sleep.

He sits beside Four, his weight causing the bed to dip, and Four rolls over to face him, still just there. Still just cute little Four, begging for touch.

He rubs a hand down Four's back and feels the slight tremble underneath, a groan leaves Four's mouth. He rubs down Four's back, and up again, simply indulging in some internal needs. Four doesn't seem to mind, or at any rate, he's seemed to accept this as just a way of life now.

"Kiss me," instructed, and immediately tension was put into that soft body beneath his fingertips. 

"I've already given you so much...how much more could I possibly give you?"

Everything, every single piece until there's nothing left.

Four leans up and kisses him, a simple stiffness to him made it seem like he was kissing a statue, but regardless it was rather wonderful. He leaned down to meet Four halfway, deepening the kiss and allowing his tongue to meet Four's tongue.

"Dad," Four panted against him once their lips parted, a glistening line of saliva is dripping down his chin. "Does this make you happy?"

It was a weird sentiment.

"I suppose, you can say it does."

Four makes a noise and rolls back over, seemly on the edge of sleep once more.

...

Four begins a new way of coping. Along with the drug use and pretending, there was a new trend. He took heavily on to Three's makeup and skirts, seeming to try to mend some fault he sees himself having.

Somehow the child had concluded he was unattractive, and could never find someone to truly love him due to his 'filthiness,' as he had told Grace.

The makeup and cross-dressing did not help his self-esteem nor did it make him feel any cleaner. But he did make an unsightly habit out of it, although Four did well to never do it in front of him, and only in his free time.

Three often complained though, of Four's use of her highly praised items.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sad chapter ahead- okay so it’s not exactly sad because it’s reginald but it was supposed to be.
> 
> There was originally going to be more, going into what Klaus experienced on his last outing, but I deemed it more appropriate for the next chapter.
> 
> |Warnings for suicide speculation/talk (?)|

His bedroom door is ajar, although he remembers shutting it. It didn't make him feel anything, no uncomfortableness, no unease, nothing. He simply opened the door and stepped inside ready to boot an unruly child out.

Six is sitting against a wall, a folder with files inside on his lap, he's reading through them with a frown. "I always thought you were lying," Six whispered, his eyes looking over each word of the file.

He knows what it is. There are only a few choice files he keeps in his bedroom, one of those being his journal entries on each day he purchased a child.

"They didn't even want me, my parents-they practically threw me at you, begging for you to take away 'the devil child.'" Six closes the folder before sitting on his desk, he avoids his eyes. 

He doesn't care that Six knows the truth of his birth, of his purchase, of the family he came from. His chest was a gaping hole when Six was born, and everyone who looked into it saw death its self.

It's no wonder his mother, and her lovely husband wanted nothing to do with him. He was a monster.

Six walks towards him, and he assumes he's going to walk right by, but then before he can understand what Six is doing he's hugging him. It's so surprising in fact, that he goes still against Six's warmth.

"Love you," Six said, mumbled against him before quickly letting go and running towards the door, not allowing him a chance to smack him with his cane. "Thank you for everything!" Six calls to him, as he runs out his room, a small smile on his lips.

He's confused. Very rarely can he say that he doesn't understand, and this is one of those times.

Never had Six ever professed such loyalty towards him, nor gratitude.

...

It all makes sense with the coming weeks. Six spends more and more time with his siblings, always whispering words of love, forgiveness, and thanks.

His siblings shrug him off and don't think anything of it. Only Four thinks it's strange, but Six tells him he's overthinking it.

He knows what this behavior is leading to but he's content to watch it play out. Curious on how Six would do it...how he would end his own life.

Perhaps with a knife, he'd slide the blade over his thin wrists. Perhaps he'd trick One into a fight, egging him in and on until One squeezed the life right out of him. Perhaps he'd down a hand full of Four's pills, and sleep in the bath.

So many possibilities, so many different outcomes. He writes each one down in his journal with newfound excitement. It's been a long time since he's had a science experiment this intriguing.

...

Then as quickly as the signs had shown up, they had disappeared. He can only conclude that Four had talked some sense into Six, but at the moment he can't be sure.

...

Four lays against his bed, all but half asleep. He slowly undressed him, letting pride swell at each new bruise he unwrapped. Ah, the child was still so soft.

He traces some of the bruises, the one on his thigh, a few on his arms, and then he let his hands rest on his stomach. The skin rolls underneath him and the child's skin begins to redden as he becomes more and more self-conscious.

"Thoughts?" He inquires, rubbing his fingers barely across the skin, giving the child a series of goosebumps that make a small noise leave his lips.

"It's good," Four says, lies right to him because he's come to think it's easier this way.

"Four," he scolds removing his hand from the child to begin undressing himself.

"I-it's just-" Four swallows, moving a hand to rub at his lips for a moment. "Somehow I keep thinking that there's something wrong with me. There must be, right? No matter how many times we do things like this it never feels right."

He hums as cold air brushes past his skin, and with each article discarded Four tenses up more. "I just can't help but think I'm broken. I know I'm supposed to like it but I just can't. I can't get past the curling of my stomach each time you kiss me or the fact that my breakfast threatens to leave me each time you touch me."

"How tragic," he leans over Four, one hand beside the child's head to brace himself and the other circling his entrance. "How can you live with yourself Four, always pulling me in even though you can never reciprocate. Just a broken tease aren't you?"

Four looks away in shame before wrapping a hand around his back, digging his nails into his flesh. Tears well up in his eyes. "I'm sorry," his voice is shaking so badly that the words barely leave his lips. "I wish I could be better."

"As do I," he agrees, propping Four's legs up for a better angle. He enters Four after only a single finger, uncaring of the pain he would suffer.

...

It was the first mission One would plan on his own.

It had been going smoothly, up until there was a room full of robbers and One decided Six could do it. As sending in Six was much faster than the alternative of taking out each guy one by one.

"I don't want to!" Six said, practically screamed, holding his hands over his chest in defense. "I'm tired of doing all the dirty work! I'm always the one with blood on their hands!"

One rolls his eyes before pushing on Six, hard, aggressive. "We're all tired, Ben. Don't act like a special snowflake now."

Six glared, his chest moving underneath his hand, his anger getting the best of him. Four presses a hand on his arm, soothing it.

"Come on Luther, don't force him," Two said, an understanding to his tone.

One turned around and stepped up to Two. "I don't remember asking for your opinion."

More arguing.

More fighting.

Six is tired of it all.

Six slipped away disregarding Four's pleads not to go. He steps into the next room and all that could be heard was gunshots and screaming. Blood poured from beneath the door, it ran down the floor, and by the time the room went silent, the fighting between the children had stopped.

They waited for their brother to walk out as he always did. Covered in blood, thin-lipped to prevent blood from running into his mouth, and his eyes sadden with what he had just allowed.

Six never came out.

...

There was no funeral for Six. Just a scattering of ashes in the courtyard, in the spot the children had deemed appropriate. A statue would be built as a reminder to the children of the failure that was Six.

...

"It's all Luther's fault," Two said, crying against Three's shoulder. They had been crying for days, had been unable to even complete the rest of the mission.

It was not an important one, but the fact that they had abandoned it for a reason such as Six's death, is absolutely disgraceful. Yet, the children were so absorbed with Six, they couldn't even begin to be upset at their punishment.

Three days without sleep, they all sat on the living room floor, listening to one record after another. 

No one protested it.

...

It was a breaking point, he sees, as the children are unable to truly back bounce from what had occurred. Trust in One had dwindled, and the morale of the group was nonexistent.

They did what they had to but no longer did they enjoy any missions. Instead, each one was treated as a chore. They did each one because they felt they had to and not because they wanted to.

...

Four is the only child who did not cry for Six's death.

"He's at peace now," Four said, smiling into his knees. "He's finally free from the monster he was becoming, his words not mine. Ben was never a monster to me," Four leans into his side as his body craved comfort, his eyes closed and the child soon drifted to sleep.

He ignores Four and continues reading the newspaper, the headline still bringing up Six's death after nearly three weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is probably going to break your heart but at least someone will finally know the truth. You can probably guess what’s going to happen. :(


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...it starts off as fluff. Can’t say that it stays that way, or that it ends up any worse than the other chapters but ah. You should proceed with caution anyway.
> 
> Poor Klaus :(

It was nearly nine weeks after Six's death that he felt anything was normal. He wasn't upset at Six's death, to him it was just a step back in Umbrella Academy process. Four, however, was upset.

Not upset, as in crying and blabbering on about his passing as his siblings are, but simply having nightmares. The normal sort, only made worse by the loss of comfort he had once gained from Six. Instead of tossing back and forth, he'd wake in a cold sweat, panting, and sometimes even delirious.

They were only just beginning to calm, now that Four has come to terms with Six's passing. Or more accurately, now that he has started to talk to himself, to the corners of the room, watching as something moved across the room that only he could see.

A member of the undead had latched onto Four and had been with him for a few weeks.

It was different from usual. 

Instead of four being scared and skittish of the dead's presence, he was open, inviting. He mumbled words in a welcoming tone, always smiling at the passing shadow. Once he even told the undead follower to 'Drop dead,' only to recoil from his own words and apologize profusely.

This was utterly new behavior. He had, of course, meant for Four to become comfortable with the undead but this comfortable? It's debatable whether it's any better than him completely fearing them.

When asked about the undead in question, Four pleaded the fifth.

Ultimately, he's left to conclude that it is Six, although the reason he has not passed on is left unknown.

...

Grace had taken Six's passing without many words of regret. She simply became more affectionate with the children. Before each mission she would kiss each child on the forehead, whispering words of motherly love, telling them to be careful, and that she'd be waiting for their return.

Otherwise, she also started to bake, as if in response to her grief, her code had decided to do whatever it could to make the ones around her happiest. He indulged her, allowing a few 'junk food' like items on his grocery list such as chocolate chips and various cake and cookie mixes, although she prefers to bake them from scratch when possible.

Baking was natural for her, as it had always been part of her code, just never used. She was always relaxed during her baking moods and enjoyed immensely when a child would ask to help.

Seven and Grace became much closer than before since they spent the most time together.

Whenever a child was sad, she'd produce them cookies or cake, and no one could ever be upset when they were stuffing their face (As Four would describe it to him.)

However it had started, it had grown, and now he had to deal with the scent of baked goods each time he was within five feet of the kitchen. Four's smile was worth the resulting headaches.

...

"Diego," Four whined, kicking Two's foot as Two ignored him in favor of studying the driving guide. "That's so boring."

"Not all of us want to live at home for the rest of lives," Two said with a bite, his eyes glaring a hole into Four's face.

"Come on Diego be nice! You know my sense of direction is shit."

Two makes a pained sound, throwing his hand over his mouth dramatically before leaning in close to Four. "Do you kiss mother with that mouth?" He asks in a sinful whisper.

"No-" Four replies as his lips stretched into a grin, one that went ear to ear, kicking Two once again-"but I do kiss father-"

Two's playful demeanor shifts to disgust and discomfort as he slaps Four's foot, leaving a red mark on the skin. "Ouch!" Four recoils in pain, and pushes his lips out into a pout.

"Stop kicking me then."

Four whines before laying back beside Two on his bed, looking over his shoulder and reading along the book with little interest.

...

"Four, won't you see me after dinner?" He asks, requests more like, seeing as it had been a long while since they had any proper alone time.

Not that he was so much needing it, as the entire sentimental part of relationships is lost on him, but when they spend so much time apart he starts to get paranoid. Of what? He's not entirely sure.

The feeling is foreign to him. Paranoia had never affected him before, and he just doesn't know what the feeling means nor how he should handle it. So, like with most things he doesn't understand, he acts like it doesn't exist, and instead explains his actions in another way.

Obviously, he simply wants to rekindle their affection, for conformation that Four is still his.

As he was always meant to be.

Not that Four would ever leave him, seeing as he's convinced the child that it's entirely his fault. So convinced in fact, that he often expressed guilt and anger towards himself, and not his 'abuser,' if he were feeling rather honest.

Which he isn't, so he'll forgo that. He's just one for tough love, and Four has nothing to be afraid of. He'd never hurt him, he only wishes to bring them closer, despite what labels society might use.

Four understands now, doesn't he? That's what his obedience and silence mean...it has to be. The child hadn't fought against him in so long...which means he now accepts his love. Isn't that true?

So many questions, so little time to ask them.

"Yes," Four said before eating another bite of his cake if anyone noticed how Tense Four was, they said nothing.

Two continued with his driver's book, sitting straight on the couch. One beside him, sometimes asking questions about a part of the book. Three on the other side of Diego, humming along, sometimes answering One's questions.

Seven was holed up in her room, as she was on most days.

...

It started the same as most of their tumbles. Four laying down on his bed, in submission, completely lax and dazed. 

Today, he wanted to take his time with Four. He wanted to reveal each piece of skin, inch by inch, like unwrapping a carefully wrapped gift. One personally made for him, only for his eyes and his soft touches.

He took off Four's jacket first, allowing it to fall on to the floor with a soft thud. Four looks up to him, expectingly, knowing what comes next. Normally he'd go on to the next article of clothing, his shirt, then his pants and undergarments, and then that's it.

He'd rub a hand on Four soft skin for a moment before entering him, without a second thought for his wellbeing.

Today, however, he wanted it to be good for Four. He wanted Four to moan his name, squirming in the sheets from pleasure, not pain. It's a strange feeling for him, to suddenly want to lavish Four with affection, instead of ruining him with bruises.

"Up," he instructs and Four does as he is told, slowly sitting up. 

He pulls on Four's hand, and Four follows the motion until he's in the middle of the bed, and a look of confusion dawns on the child. He ignores it, however, and takes a seat where Four had once sat, and simply leaves space between his legs for Four to sit.

Four is hesitant.

"Come, Four," he gives a small smile, a fake, but solid reassurance that Four has nothing to worry about. This isn't any different from usual.

Four crawls over and sits between his legs, his back against his chest, his face turned away, but he knows there's red on his cheeks. He takes a few breathes before he relaxes.

He wraps a hand around Four, pulling him back against his chest, kissing his bite mark as Four relaxes, noting with pride how most of it remains as a scar. He lets his hands wander Four's clothed body, simply mesmerizing the shape of Four.

Four is silent, aside from a sharp inhale of breath, when he had rubbed across his chest, and grazed a nipple. It's strange, how the smallest thing can seem so big. He does it again, letting both his hands massage Four's chest until he was leaning his back onto his shoulder and letting small soft sounds of pleasure out of his mouth.

It's so strange. How these noises were somehow more satisfying than the tears that would roll down Four's face, or his hissing when he bruised the child. It was all so very strange, and it made him uncomfortable to know that...perhaps he was going soft in his old age.

"Dad," Four mumbles, grabbing hard onto the sheets, balling up the fabric in his hand, needing something to keep him grounded to reality. The child seemed to struggle with the pleasure, so used to pain and discomfort. "Please don't," It was the first protest he'd heard from Four in months, and it was quickly overruled by a sudden moan after he had squeezed one of Four's nipples gently.

He slips a hand underneath Four's shirt, letting his palm slide across Four's stomach with fluttering touches, before removing the article of clothing. "Aren't you enjoying yourself?" He asked, letting his right-hand rub Four's right nipple while sliding his left hand down to Four's hard erection.

The child's response was nothing but mumbled noises of pleasure. It was a good sign because the child usually struggled to get hard, let alone, enjoy being touched there.

If it was any other day, he might have pushed down Four's pants and boxers in a hurry, he'd scrunch them at his knees and quickly insert himself inside, searching for his own pleasure and no one else's. But, today was special, so he simply kept his palm on Four's erection, squeezing once in a while as the organ twitched beneath his touch.

"Don't," Four protested again, although he was most certainly enjoying every aspect of this.

"You sure are mouthy today," he remarks as he kisses down Four's neck.

He gently begins to push down Four's pants and by the time he gets it to his knees, he notices a wet spot in Four's boxers, where Four's erection has put a tent in the fabric.

Before he can even say anything about it, Four has his head in his hands, tears are already streaming down his face, and he's mumbling something. 

It's alarming...and anger-inducing. He's taken his sweet time, ensuring Four's pleasure, despite the fact that he didn't have to, and Four repays him like this? By crying into his hands like a baby? By completely disregarding all of his efforts.

It boils his blood.

"Four," he growls out, turning his small kisses to hard bites against Four's neck. 

"I'm sorry," Four sobs against one hand while the other pushes against his erection, hiding it. "I'm sick, you're making me sick. God, I think I'm going to throw up." Four goes to stand, goes to leave, hand pressing against his own mouth to prevent himself from throwing up.

He throws a hand across Four's stomach, holding him close. "Why?" He uses the hand not holding Four's stomach to rub the tip of Four's erection. Four worms around in pleasure and discomfort.

"I'm not supposed to feel good! It's not supposed to feel good! It's supposed to be disgusting and gross and-"

Four goes rigid.

Four is completely still, unmoving, not even breathing as his eyes widen, stuck staring at something to the side of the bed. Something that can't be seen by the human eye.

"Don't look," is all that leaves Four's broken form. "Please don't look at me," Four isn't even crying, his tears have gone still too, just as all the oxygen in the room has left and he can't breathe.

Then as suddenly as everything had slowed down, it speeds up. Four shifts, throwing a hand back to push himself away, with a force unlike Four to have. 

It is desperate.

"Let go," Four struggles, pushing, kicking his legs, his breathing has gone completely erratic. "No, no! This isn't what it looks like-"

His free hand, not holding down Four's worming form, goes to his face to force Four to look at him, then he locks their lips together. 

Showing Six the truth, as he assumes Six must be watching now. What other reason would Four be alarmed at the presence of the undead?

He wasn't going to let Four smear their actions. He wasn't going to let Four get away with moaning in pleasure and then turn around and act like he hadn't wanted it. Four is just as much of a part of this as he is.

"Stop it!" Four pushes him, hard, digging his nails into his arm until they sliced open a clean, deep cut, that splattered blood all over the white sheets. "No, Ben! I don't-"

Four's struggles become worse, he's digging his nails into any body part he can, his legs, his arms, even once into his left cheek, causing an array of blood to taint Four's hands, and bare chest, but the child doesn't even seem to notice.

"Four please calm down," he tries to soothe the sudden panic in Four, but all his voice does is cause Four to yank his body again and again until he slips out of the hand around his stomach. Before he knows it Four is falling off the bed, pants still bunched up at his knees, not allowing for much movement.

The child is acting absolutely hysterical. There's no reason for his panic, it's not like Six could tell anyone. This would still be their little secret.

He stands, towering over Four's struggling form on the floor. "No, no, stop it!" Four isn't talking to him.

Four finally gets his pants off and turns to stand, on his knees in front of the door, the wild look in his eyes seeing only one out. Four looked like a wild animal in a cage, willing to do anything to escape.

He waits until Four's moving, to try and stand with a hand on the floor, off-balance, then he's kicking Four. Right into Four's spine, causing the child to fall onto the floor and crack his forehead off the floor, then leans down on the balls of his feet, and places a hand on Four's head, shoving his nose in the hardwood floor.

"You are acting like a child."

Four attempts to get up so he digs his nail's into Four's scalp before pulling, hard. Pulling the child's head a few inches off the floor before slamming it down, listening to the satisfying crack the child's nose made when it came into contact with the floor. Blood dribbled down's Four's nose, and into his mouth as the child began to sob.

"Please dad don't-"

"Shush," he pushes down Four's boxers with a single hand before undoing his own pants. He lets the sound of the fabric slowly descending down his body terrify Four. "You lost my pity when you started flailing like a baby. What is wrong with you Four?"

Four is sobbing, messily, including the blabbering of incomplete words, and a pool of tears beneath him, and even snot begins to drip down his face, making a gross pile of blood and snot on the floor.

He presses his erection against Four's entrance before easing the head in without any more lingering. There was a scream from Four, broken, and hoarse, and so small and fragile that Four truly sounded like he was dying.

"Please-"

Four doesn't even fight anymore. He can't. His head is spinning.

"Please no-"

Four closes his eyes, trying not to look at Six's fleeting form.

"Ben don't-"

Four goes silent.

He rams into Four, again and again, uncaring of the splinters Four would get in his hands that slide across the floor lifelessly, uncaring of Four's knees that pressed into the floor to carry his weight when he drapes himself completely over Four, laying down across his form and biting a few times across Four's back.

Four is completely lifelessly.

It's a shame.

He had planned on opening Four nice and slow, fingering him until he came on his fingers alone, and then he was going to enter Four gingerly, so for once, Four wouldn't bleed.

Four ruined all that with his disgusting crying. He had acted like he didn't like it, like he was so disgusted by Six seeing that he'd rather die. 

It was hurtful.

After all his hard work to make progress with Four, it felt like Four spit in his face. 

Truly cruel.

He thrusts a few more times, listening to the sobs of Four. He cums inside and Four's body trembles. Four's eyes flutter open and he stares lifelessly at a single spot in the room.

"Please stop speaking," Four begs, more tears falling. "I...I don't know."

He removes himself from Four before making his bottom half look presentable. Then he extends a hand towards Four as he stands, Four doesn't even look.

"It's my fault," Four flinches and shakes his head. 

He drops his hand. Four doesn't deserve his pity anyway.

"You wouldn't understand," Four mutters before he buries his face in his arm, and he laughs a terrible disgusting laugh.

Blood poured out of his entrance, a concerning amount, but he had used up all his pity. Four was of no concern to him at the moment.

He steps away, tending to his own wounds. Looking at an almost five-inch cut across his arm, bleeding purposely, blood just drips off and the floor looks like a war zone. His face also has a scratch but it is much smaller and wasn't bleeding any more.

He would live, not that he was concerned.

He steps over Four, to go to the infirmary to wrap his arm. He'd much like to avoid making more of a mess than he has already. Grace would have to wash his sheets and scrub his floor now.

It's all Four's fault.

...

When he returns back to his room, he's surprised to find Four still there. Now on the bed, snuggled up, simply staring at the ceiling with no emotion. "How did I get here?" Four asks, then he swallows.

"You walked," he deadpanned, for a mere moment concerned that he had accidentally given the child amnesia.

The blood around Four's mouth has dried and his nose is starting to bruise. "I hate you," Four sits up, pounding a hand against the mattress. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! This is all your fault!"

Four is practically screaming.

He rolls his eyes and takes a step towards Four.

"No! No, no no! You don't get to roll your eyes and pretend this isn't all your fault! You made me like this! You messed me up!"

Four's voice is hoarse and dry, so very broken. It cracks each time he speaks.

"I walked here, you're right, and I did it all because I believed you. Every single lie you fed me, every single pretty word you said. God, how messed up do you have to be to believe such disgusting things..."

He takes another step closer, Four just keeps rambling. "But, there's no reason. Why would you do these things to me? Why? It has to be my fault because...because there's no other reason," Four grabs his head and mumbles, his eyes wide with fear and anger.

"No, no, that's wrong."

Four is crying all over again.

He takes one final step closer before wrapping a hand around Four's head gingerly and shoving the child against him. "It's alright Four," he leans down and embraces Four, holding the child against his chest, as he places a knee on the bed. "There's nothing wrong with you," he whispers, soothing Four's shaking.

He must be getting soft.

Allowing Four his pity like this.

"It's not your fault. You're just a child, so small and innocent. Nothing you could ever do would make this your fault," Four becomes soft and putty beneath his hands, soon melting into his warmth, into comfort. 

"Oh," Four clings onto him like he's the only thing holding him to the earth. "But I-"

"But nothing Four. This isn't your fault."

"Why then-"

He shushes Four laying him back in the bed gently. "Did Six tell you it's not your fault? Did he cry for you? Yell for you? Did he apologize again and again because he couldn't save you?"

Four says nothing.

"I'm sick," he confesses, holding Four's hand close, rubbing a finger along the soft skin. "It's my fault alone for your suffering."

Four is so soft beneath him, his eyes fluttering, so close to sleeping. "And if it's my fault, my sickness that made you suffer, what does that make you?"

Four opens his mouth before shutting it just as quickly.

"You are the cure, Four. You make me better...doesn't that make you happy?"

Four doesn't answer.

If he even heard him speak, it's unclear, for the child had drifted off to sleep.

...

He gets a washcloth, damp, to wipe at Four's bloodied face. He is careful not to wipe too hard because Four looks rather peaceful.

Then when Four is looking less like he was just in a fight, he moves to his hands. He wipes off the blood underneath his nails, and the few splatters on his palms. When he deems it clean, he moves on to Four's chest.

He pushes down the blankets slowly, wiping blood off as he goes. Even finding some on his navel, and once he wipes it off he pushes the blanket down further and before he can even take another breath he's dropping the washcloth in disgust.

Four's thighs are covered with blood, in streaks and splatters. A pool of blood surrounds Four's bottom, making it seem as if the child had gotten his menstrual cycle.

His bleeding is far worse than he originally thought. He must have torn something. Four wasn't falling asleep, he was fainting from blood loss.

Just wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :(


	10. *Bonus Chapter*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Chapter from Klaus <3
> 
> It’s a little flashback of his ‘outing.’
> 
> You don’t have to read it as everything contained will be touched on later. it’s just a flashback, really only here to allude to future events in canon.
> 
> I usually don’t write them, but ah I miss writing from a sane point of view.

Klaus just needed to get away. Away from his father, away from his siblings, sway from himself. There was only one way to do that.

_Drugs_

He slipped out of Five's window without anyone raising a single eyebrow. It wasn't like he wouldn't be back, they knew as well as does that the world had no place for a ghost seeing junkie, whom most of the public believed was crazy and simply made up his powers.

Oh, does he enjoy his life.

It's cold, as always, and the streets were littered with trash, discarded beer cans, and a few flyers were taped up against the bricks. He ignores them and quickly makes his ways through the streets, his connection is always fashionably disappearing when the going gets tough, aka one sniff of the police and he's out.

Always the inconvenience.

...

_It's all his fault_

He exchanges his signature for a baggy of pills. Miscellaneous. Always the same instruction, don't take more than two at a time.

_It's always his fault_

He slips behind a nearby dumpster and downs a handful of colorful pills. He can't even name one of them. 

He presses his hands into the rocky pavement, enjoying the sick burn of rocks digging into his flesh. A familiar pain that does nothing to make it better. He just wants to forget. Forget that it's his fault.

His stomach disagrees with the pills, it curls, and before he knows it he's leaning over and throwing up. Acid burns his throat, memories of all the times his father had kissed his lips so gently, hoping to convince him that this is right.

This is how normal children and parents interact.

He throws up again, gagging all the while until he's done. Then, he downs another handful of pills.

_It's his fault_

...

He was supposed to wake up on the pavement, cold, alone. The world laughing at him because of how stupid he was. Letting himself believe that if he swallowed a few more pills that everything would be alright.

_It's his fault_

Instead, he awoke to the tickle of petals against his skin, soft and feathery. So much so, that he flinches from them as his whole body cringes. They are familiar touches, ones his father would do often as if he was cherishing his body...Although he always proceeded to decimate it. 

At this point, he's ruined, always perceiving every touch as dirty. No matter how hard he scrubs his skin, no matter how much he scratches and tortures himself with hot water...he's never pure. Never has he been able to wash off that layer of filth on his skin that his father just keeps adding to.

The world around him is quiet, only the occasional chirping of birds as he sits up. It's different, lacking color, and when he moves it's without pain. He doesn't even feel the scar on his neck, the one that always aches and burns when he bathes. Always alive with its screaming, always telling him he'll never escape.

_It's his fault_

He runs his hands through the flowers surrounding him, so many in fact. He doesn't remember how he got here or why this field of flowers feels like home. Like he could be here safe here, away.

So far away from his father.

"Klaus, isn't it?" 

It startles him, the voice of a little girl, so nice and smooth. It is said with certainty and pride.

He turns around, only to find a little girl a few flowers away, examining each and every flower around her before smiling and picking one. "So beautiful," her eyes traced every part of the flower, from it's circular petals to its long stem. 

"That's me," he tries to be happy, upbeat, but it's all just there. 

She hums something before standing, placing the flower into a basket before walking away. Just right through the field of flowers, not even a look in his in direction. Her eyes were constantly on the flowers.

"Hey wait," he stands, wobbly, takes a few steps and before he knows it the birds stop chirping, the girl blurs in the distance and no matter how far he runs, he gets nowhere.

...

"He's breathing," someone says, shocked, very distant.

He coughs, and rolls over, only to touch the edge of his dried throw-up and begin to cringe away. "Gross," he mutters, only smelling piss and his own mess.

"You okay, kid?" Someone is touching him, his face, his forehead, prodding. 

He opens his eyes, squinting against the moonlight. He wasn't even asleep that long, go figure, must have been a bad trip.

The hand slips down his neck, caressing, and before he knows it he's upright, completely wide awake, bearing his teeth at a young man who's eyes were full of longing. "What is the Séance doing out here? Does your daddy know where you are?" His grin is vicious, and...familiar.

It's the same one of the man who danced with him, uncomfortably close. What was a guy like that doing out here? "What I promised is still on the table," the man whispers, coming in closer, placing a hand on his cheek before pressing his lips against his.

He pushes against the man's chest, hard, only gaining himself a slap across the face. It burns, and the man just gives a sickening laugh. "Don't be such a prude. You have to know how much of a delectable cutie you are," the man's scent was surrounding him, choking him. 

Fucking lavender-

"Come on, just admit it. You want me to suck on your cute little dick."

"Go away," His cheek is burning, he knows it has to be red now.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

There are hands on his stomach, slipping underneath his shirt. "You're wrong! I don't want this," he tries to push the man away, but he's hit with so many familiar feelings.

His throat closing up so fast he can't breathe, his hands shaking causing him to lose control of his fingers, his stomach rolling and rolling until he feels stomach acid travel up his throat. It's so sickening, all of it, and it's his fault.

"Please don't do this," he can't handle this. He can't do this. He's going to die. His heart is pounding so hard it's going to pop in his chest.

"Please."

Hands are at his manhood, fondling him, and each time he feels a familiar tingle of pleasure he hates every bit of himself. So disgusted at his own body, for daring to feel good at something so disgusting. If he hates it so much, if it makes him so sick, why does it feel good?

_It's all his fault_

His jacket is off and then his shirt and before he knows it the man has gone completely still. Tears are streaming down his face, he doesn't even know when they occurred or why they feel so hot. "Did your dad do that?" The man rubs his fingertips gently over the bite mark, with what looks like excitement.

"Are you daddy's little plaything?"

"You're wrong."

"Does he make you cry out in pleasure every night? I bet he does doesn't he?"

He backs up further against the hard bricks behind him as if that was even possible. 

"So possessive that one is. Your dad is a monster."

"You're wrong," he tries to stand, his legs are so weak and wobbly that he's sure it's because they are full of jelly. "My father would never do something so vile. He's not like you!"

The man laughs, a sickening laugh. One that makes his knees weak and his ears ring. "You're cute," the man licks his lips, casting a hungering gaze.

He does the only thing he can. He kicks the man between his legs, smiling when the man yelps and falls over on himself. He quickly grabs his jacket and his shirt, getting dressed as he simultaneously gets as far as away as possible.

_It's his fault._

...

He made it home in one piece, missing his baggie of pills. So even if he wanted to drown his pain and disgust in them, he couldn't. All he had was his filth, so much filth that even when he spent hours in the bath, scrubbing until his skin turned red, he couldn't get it off.

It just felt worse and worse as he couldn't get it out of his head. The way the man touched him, the way he defended his father...because his father wasn't even as disgusting feeling as that man.

He doesn't want to think about it.

Nothing happened. Nothing has changed. Nothing.

He lays back against the porcelain and tries to act like everything is fine. 

...

While being dragged away for punishment, he learns he had been missing for two days, although he can't remember them at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mm you don’t how much I want to write a fluffy story now~


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mm I had to cut about 1500 words out. Not to worry, I believe they’ll probably show up next chapter now but ah, still depressing.
> 
> Have a good day <3

With the help of Grace, Four was moved to the infirmary where he was examined. Grace was gentle as she probed his insides with a single finger, her opposite hand on Four's thigh, rubbing to try and relieve the discomfort. 

Four didn't flinch nor move, her comfort is completely unjustified, but she continued on. "Awful," Grace said, her eyes lighting a tint of blue to signify that her diagnosis was complete. "Four has sustained an anal fissure and there's a small tear just inside but it doesn't require stitches. As far as I can tell, he passed out due to the combination of stress and blood loss from two areas, his nose and anal cavity-"

He searched the cabinets, ignoring Grace. He retrieves a cream, for Four's entrance, and tossed it at Grace who caught it without stopping her rambling. Which, at this point, he's sure she's doing because she wants to force some sense of false guilt upon him.

...

They have only one blood bag left in the fridge, and he had no interest in asking one of the children to donate. That would raise questions he wasn't interested in entertaining. 

Grace ensures him that one bag is enough. Four's main reason for passing out was stress, not blood loss, although the child had a substantial amount of that. His internal injuries had stopped bleeding after being tended to, and as long as the child remains in bed rest for a week or so, he'd have no permanent damage.

...

"I've already washed him," he told Grace, watching as she tensed up beneath his gaze.

"I know," Grace said, clear, concise, but she continues on her sponge bath of Four nevertheless. She is gentle, so very gentle with Four, making sure to calculate each and every touch so that she doesn't wake Four.

"This child isn't dirty."

Grace wipes across Four's chest, making sure to dip the sponge into a bucket ever once in a while, it's full of bubbly soap that smells suspiciously like vanilla. "I know," again she avoids his gaze.

"Grace-"

"Four would wake in distress, if he were forced to smell you on his skin."

There it is.

He leaves Grace be, noting how she hadn't once looked at him.

...

Four is asleep in the infirmary, going on two days, and the worse part is, his siblings didn't even care he was gone, they did, however, notice Grace's lack of presence. Which led them to the conclusion that it had something to do with Four, only then did they become worried, now instead of assuming Four was on another drug run, they knew he was injured.

...

"What did Klaus do this time?" Two asks Grace.

Grace said nothing, only giving a sad smile.

...

Four awoke on the second day, hungry, and grace provided him bacon and eggs, made in the shape of a smiley face. 

Disgustingly sentimental.

He comes into the infirmary to sit by Four's side. Feeling the need to be close, to find out how much the blood loss had effected Four.

He didn't know how much the child remembered, for most of their last conversation was had in Four's delusional state brought on by his blood loss. It's highly possible he thought of his confession like a dream, and still felt himself responsible. 

But something unexpected happens as he goes to sit down on a chair beside Four's cot. Four flinches, hard, eyes locked on his, widening ever so slightly as he watches his every move.

He pauses, standing upright, forgetting sitting down as his mind calculated the gaze Four sent to him, and before he can even understand it himself his mouth is moving. "Are you afraid of me?" He asks and Four's body sinks further into the bed, and his mouth opens for a moment before it shuts. Four shakes his head, but it was not convincing.

This is was all very concerning. Four always pretended, always kept up his good spirits, always the one to prioritize everyone else's happiness or his own. Yet, Four sat there, not even faking a smile.

Grace looks between them but simply smiles, pouring Four another glass of orange juice which the child didn't even look at. Four just kept staring at him, as if he was waiting for something to happen.

"Stop looking at me like that," he scolds, sitting down. Four looks back to his food and eats in silence.

By Four's third piece of bacon, he sends Grace a smile and is awarded a hand through his hair and Grace's own lovely smile.

He wonders what Four thinks of this. 

What does Four truly think all of his affection and sex is about. Does he, somewhere deep inside, see it all as some sort of punishment? Is that why he can put up with it, why he can blame himself so easily, why he finds it so disgusting because punishments come without a choice.

He wonders. Wonders often in fact, because he honestly doesn't know why he does it either. It most definitely isn't love. He's never had any urges to mate, to reproduce, it was never that, despite how that concept often came up in his deepest thoughts.

It was never about love nor sex.

It was always about soothing a hunger, one for domination. To hold complete and utter power over someone else. That's what really sparked it, but Four being cute, and soft, really added everything else to the mix.

He leaves Four be, allowing him some much needed alone time with Grace.

...

He takes out Three, Two, and One, for training. It was simple, really, he set up a few targets and had them practice their aim with various items from rocks to knives.

It's nothing serious.

Just an excuse to get the children moving.

...

"You spend a lot of time with Four," One says to him as they walk the courtyard as they did on occasion. What came from One's mouth wasn't accusing, it was jealousy. 

Green, hateful jealousy...or perhaps it was full of envy. Both emotions are closely intertwined.

On the battlefield, number One was the only child that concerned him. He is the leader, and a kingdom is only as good as it's ruler. But at home, One was never given attention, always was it on Four.

It's no wonder One would get jealous, when he's a creature that thrives off attention and praise.

"And?"

One looks towards the sky for a moment. "What are you guys doing? Four never seems very happy when he comes back."

"I test out new training regimens on him," One hums, eyes drifting down onto the dirt before he kicks the ground.

"If you want...you could use me too."

One is always so naive, aloof. Not like Four, Four was an intentional kind of naive, he valued a good joke over his own image.

"Oh? Would you really be willing to give so much? Like your own body perhaps?"

He stops walking, One stops too, turning to him with a look of wanting. He wants to be told he's perfect, the best with no flaws. 

One nods.

He reaches a hand out to One's chin, lifts his head up silently before moving in. One immediately goes soft, his eyes shutting slightly, his lips pushing out just a little. "Is that a yes?" He says, moving in further and further until he's a few centimeters away from One and he can feel his breath.

One's eyes close.

He pulls away, back, with a smile on his lips. "Oh, One. What am I going to do with you?" 

One's eyes shoot open, red flushes across his entire body as he thinks of some excuse for his actions. "I thought- What were you doing?"

"Seeing how far you've gone with Three," he said as he walked away, a smile still stuck on his lips due to his own self-satisfaction.

With the way One braced himself, being so ready for a kiss, it could only mean One and Three have already gone too far. He'll keep it in his mind, in the future it might do them good to be separated. For if One becomes too tangled in her web, he'll never get out.

One follows behind him, looking at him with a glint of embarrassment. "Please don't smile dad. Nothing good ever happens when you're smiling."

He continues smiling, although he can't say One is wrong.

...

His smile, which is a rare accomplishment mind you, is promptly ripped off his face when Three scrolled on by beside him, her eyes glinting look as she gave him a passing glance.

He goes to brace himself.

She turns to him with a smile, leaning up onto him, hanging onto him with no shame as she whispers in his ear. "I heard a rumor you want to give me an allowance."

Always burns.

It does.

Her words change reality, which in its self is a great responsibility, but when she uses it like this, to change his reality. It always leaves a sour taste in his mouth, the sudden shift in mentality.

Suddenly the idea of an allowance doesn't sound crazy...in fact, it sounds amazing. His brain just fires out reasons why it's beneficial. First of all, it could teach them the power of saving money, and of course, bills. For heaven's sake, he should charge rent! Of course, he could also encourage them to put the money towards a college...or secondary education. Wasn't Two saying something about a police academy the other day?

It all disgusts him.

These aren't his thoughts and he knows it. He knows yet, he can do nothing but listen to them call to him, singing their song like a siren. He's absolutely helpless...

He sighs, glaring at her heavily. "I suppose Three, I'll consider it." It wasn't a no. He couldn't fight it...but he'll definitely put it off as long as possible...which will be a long few years.

He is rather stubborn and in this situation, it helps quite well.

She takes this as if it was a completely hard yes. She squeals and jumped up once before running off somewhere.

He questions deeply, for a moment, what she'll ever do with her life, after she realizes nothing she's ever gotten is real. It's all fabricated lies she makes up for herself, a dollhouse of her own creation, which is stale and falling apart.

He wonders about most of the children. 

...

Four is curled up on the cot, his head half-buried underneath a thin blanket as he drifts in and out of sleep. His curls are getting long, too long, and he'll be forced to cut them soon. As short hair is much more professional, although he personally doesn't mind a couple of curls.

As soon as his footsteps hit the inside of the infirmary, Four flinches, lifting up the blanket so he could peer out, and his eyes searched for familiarity. They search for Grace, his mother who spoils him and takes away all his pains. 

However, he was far from Grace, and when his eyes locked on his, Four seemed to pale.

Such confusing organisms humans are.

"Thoughts?" He inquires, sitting down in the chair beside the cot, knowing full well the way it made Four freeze up.

Four says nothing, keeping most of himself hidden underneath the blanket as if in defense. "I thought you weren't afraid of me?" He reaches a hand out to Four, delighting in the way Four immediately sits up and leans away.

Four is trembling, hard. He doesn't even seem to be breathing. 

He understands, of course, where this is all coming from, but he doesn't understand why. Why now. Why, after years of abuse, why now did it cause Four to snap.

"I don't," Four finally spoke to him, taking a greedy breath as he attempts to relax. "I'm just a little hurt," he whispers as he avoids his gaze.

"I see," he knows that's not it. Four's own pain never matter, it never made him upset or change personality types in a day's time, no, this was bigger than Four. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What?" Four croaks, breath caught in his throat.

"Six-"

Four immediately makes a noise of disgust. "Six who? As if I would associate with someone as...as insensitive as that idiot."

"Oh? I thought you were best friends."

Four rolls his eyes.

"Klaus, why haven't you told anyone? Klaus, why aren't you fighting harder? Klaus, why don't you scream? Klaus why don't you blah blah blah!" Four's voice is laced with sarcasm and anger, so very upset at Six. "I know better than anyone that all you want to is ask questions when-this-it happens but god, couldn't he keep them to himself?"

He said nothing.

Four fumed quietly before sinking into the bed with a huff. "I know he means well. I'm not...I'm not super mad or anything about that. That was the other day and I know it's a lot to handle at first but today he-" Four swallows as he shoves a hand against his forehead, hitting himself lightly as he curses something. "Ben said ‘Who would have thought dad would be a rapist?’” It's all said seriously, but it's clear Four doesn't enjoy saying it, at all.

He doesn't understand. Really. What part of that would make him upset? It's nothing but the truth.

Four bites his lip before wiping at his eyes a few times. "If that's true...then what? I'm your victim? What we've been doing is rape? It's...god it's such a disgusting thought that I can't even believe Six would suggest something like that." Four wipes harder at his eyes. "I'm not a victim! I'm not weak and small and helpless!"

Four is delusional at this point. He must be. How else could he not consider it rape? Was he actually right to assume Four thought of it like a punishment?

Four's mouth stops moving for a moment but it's clear his mind is still working. It's probably repeating that word over and over again. Finally, Four has a word for his suffering...and he just can't accept it. Nobody wants that statement to be true.

To admit that they've been raped, touched, violated.

There are footsteps coming towards the infirmary, he only really hears it like a fly buzzing, insignificant. He doesn't even flinch, just watches as Four mumbles underneath his breath, his eyes clear up as he blinks away his tears. "Sorry for being so selfish," Four sighs, smiling at him softly for the first time that day. "I don't mean to throw so many of my problems on you."

"I don't mind." 

The more Four talks to him, the deeper in his mind he can get.

"But I do," Four said as the footsteps grow louder, drawing his eyes to the doorway. Where promptly three bubbling children appear, although he thinks generally they are considered teenagers at this point, but the very thought brings about discomfort.

Knowing they are soon going to be leaving the nest.

Two walks inside and stands on the other side of Four, a grin on his lips as he begins to poke Four all over, delighting in the small hisses of pain. The children know Four is injured, that he suffered some blood loss, but they were not told what happened.

If Four wanted to, that was his choice.

Three shoves Two lightly, whispering something about Four being injured. Two rolls his eyes as he changes his harsh poking to a hand on Four's head, teasing him, rubbing his fingers through Four's curls as if Four was a small child.

One came to stand beside him, his drifting down at his seated position ever so often.

"So what did you do this time? Let me guess! You decided to wear mother's heels again? Perhaps even you decided to play with knives after downing a handful of pills? Oh I know, you tried to cook!”

"That was one time," Four mutters underneath his breath, looking towards him with a sad glance as if begging him to stop Two's voice. 

"Have more faith in Four," One looks towards Three to gain her approval. "He and father were training, surely it was simply an accident."

Four has gone tense, just for a brief moment, that you had have been really starring at him to know. "I'm just joking," Two sighs, poking Four. "You're supposed to laugh and tell me my ideas are ridiculous, and then proceed to tell me an even more ridiculous, but true reason for your injury."

He stays silent, his children don't really seem to mind his presence all that much, which makes him uncomfortable. To know, that perhaps he had really gone soft. When was the last time he enforced a bedtime? Or for that matter army showers? Did he even scold the children for their elbows on the table?

He's been so caught up with Four, that once again, he's let his authority get right out from under him. Ah, the wonders of emotions.

"It's embarrassing," Four gestures nonetheless for Two to come closer, so he could whisper it. Two leans in, and Four's mouth moves.

Two goes from gleeful fun to disgust to anger. Two pulls back, stumbles almost, and he glares. "Klaus, you really are disgusting, you know that? How much longer are you going to keep indulging in that fucked up mind of yours!"

"Language," he scolds, and Two looks at him a second too long before turning and walking out, muttering something like 'I'm going to be sick.'

Three follows worryingly.

One watches but it takes him a moment to understand. "Two was really worried about you, Four. I can't believe you'd be so cruel," One’s voice is harsh, before walking away too, following after the rest of his siblings.

Four doesn't move, doesn't speak, barely even looks at the ceiling with any emotion. "What did you tell him?" He inquires and Four blinks a few times.

"Do you care?"

He says nothing. 

Four puts his arm over his eyes and sighs. "You know, Luther doesn't talk like that when you're not around."

He says nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading~


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mm I had lots of thoughts here but I cut them all out. You’re welcome!
> 
> First part of this chapter in a nutshell:
> 
> Three: Are you spoiling me?
> 
> Reggie: Well yes, but actually no.
> 
> —
> 
> This chapter has been poorly typo checked! I’m so sorry! I swear I’ll get there by tonight!

He caves and gives Three her allowance. He thought about being petty and giving her a quarter for her troubles. But, he thought her punishment would be much more fitting if she had a greater amount so-

A thousand dollars he laid on her bed while she was off on a mission.

She practically squealed with joy and rubbed it in her sibling's faces. Their allowances were not part of the deal, so they remained moneyless.

One didn't mind.

Two threw a silent fit.

Seven watched with envy.

Four was none the wiser, still stuck in the infirmary for another four days.

...

He took out Three to go shopping. He rarely did this, if he had ever. She squeals and coos, and presses the most luxurious outfits against herself and looks in the mirror before deciding on one over another. 

Blue dresses with Lacey frills, red short dresses that would surely not make it to her knees, and there was even a white, sparkly dress which was almost her entire budget. She even bought a few necklaces and a ring, which she was most proud of. 

Then the makeup, the substance used for the beautification of the female form- she bought so many different things. From lipstick to foundation- to a million brushes that were almost the same but not really.

"You wouldn't understand," Three said, shaking her head at him.

She is right. He doesn't understand, but he could, he just chooses not to. Grace understands, and that's all he needs.

...

The cost was almost two thousand dollars, the ring was apparently made of real diamonds and she graciously didn't tell him how much the other dresses cost.

He pays the difference.

...

The next part of his punishment is for her to get prettied up- and she was happy to oblige. She did her makeup, new lipsticks, new foundation, nice eyeshadow- all the likes. And she smiled and put a ribbon in her hair.

"Thank you so much," she coos, so very happy with this life she's practically stolen.

...

The final most important step was to stand on the street corner. He gave her a sign that said 'compliment me.' At first, people did, so very many. On her beautiful complexion, her beautiful expensive dress, and makeup.

Then he lets the ball drop.

"Next person that comes by," he instructs, putting a hand on her shoulder as she tenses up. "Make them believe you're ugly."

"What?" 

He says nothing, she looks at him like he's crazy.

"But dad...I thought-"

Another person stops, Three looks towards the man and smiles. "I heard a rumor you think I'm ugly."

The man's eyes turn to disgust before he takes a step back. "I didn't know the circus was in town. Jesus, you should be ashamed to show your face around here."

Three is silent.

"I bet the only way you'll ever get a compliment is if you beg for it. Fuckin pig," the man walks away, mumbling underneath his breath as the goes.

Three shakes.

"And the next person, do the same."

"Dad-"

"Three."

Silence.

...

He had spent a total of six thousand dollars that day, giving a group of people a hundred dollars each to give their 'honest opinion' of Three without her knowledge. So each person that came along was vicious, harsh, and by the end of the day, Three cried.

...

When the next week rolls around, he only gives Three ten dollars. 

She does not complain.

...

He had been avoiding Four. No main reason, just a combination of overload of work, Three, and dealing with Seven's wandering eyes. He had been busy slaving away on comic deals, and a few stray bills.

Seven had been following him, opening her mouth once and a while as if she wanted to speak but never did. She just didn't have the guts, and he, not one for babying, decided that he wouldn't acknowledge her.

So she just stalked him for about five days and only stopped once Four had finally gotten out of the infirmary. 

He is better, but still unable to train for at least another week.

...

"That's not right," Four says to no one, his hands out in front of him. "It's miss-Mary mac, mac, mac, all dressed in black, black, black-" Four continues on with hand motions like he's doing a strange form of patty cake.

All with Six.

Four smiles and laughs, as he continues on.

...

"Stupid Klaus," Two digs his knife into the dirt of the courtyard. "Stupid Allison."

"Dinner!" Grace calls out to him and Two comes obediently, allowing Grace to give him a kiss on his forehead.

...

After Dinner, he talks to Four for the first time in nearly a week. Four, surprisingly, was the one to seek him out, coming to his office with a grin.

Apparently having made up with Six.

"Dad," Four says, smiling, although there was an undeniable tension in Four. "Vanya has been looking into a musical school, a private one." 

He says nothing.

"She's been wanting to bring it up to you for a while...but you aren't exactly welcoming, you know."

He writes nonsense in his journal.

"I just...think it would be good for Vanya. She's never really...fit in here...and I bet she'd be really happy there. She's always wanted to be a great violinist."

"Four," he finally looks at Four, noticing immediately the way Four seems to lean back, away. "Would it make you happy if I said yes?"

Four looks away, guilty. "Of course it would...but I know these things come at a cost."

_You'd want me, wouldn't you? My body for her freedom..._

Yes, everything comes at a cost, and normally he would have asked Four for his body. To see how much Seven is worth to him. If a moment of his pain is worth her life of freedom but-

Four is injured right now, unfortunately, that means he can't test Four.

"She can go," he says, more interested in proving a point than anything. That not everything Four proposes should be proposed with fear.

He doesn't always want Four's pain and suffering. After all...he is his sugar daddy, or rather, he wouldn't be entirely against the prospect.

Of course, that perhaps is something that only comes with his moods, which he's particularly in a good one right now, after having that satisfying punishment for Three.

Four smiles, really truly smiles.

"Have her give me the institution's contacts, and I'll have her enrolled."

Four was happy, content, and he whispers something low off to someone who had been watching. 

Six.

He wonders what Six thinks of this. Does Six think Four is stupid for continually putting himself in danger? Has Six come to understand more of Four's previous actions while he was still alive? Does he know Four had tried to tell his siblings many times? Has Four told Six about their past together?

Four was been conditioned into an unusual mindset, after-all.

He wonders about a lot but doesn't ask anything.

...

Two days later, when he opens his bedroom door to go to breakfast, on the floor is a flyer for White Star's Musical institution.

He puts it on his desk, to remind himself later that he had promised Four, although he didn't personally agree with how much money he's been spending lately.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reginald feeling new feelings- the chapter.
> 
> -this chapter was supposed to be a lot darker but I toned it down- you’re welcome!

Seven is happy, overjoyed really, and she even thanked him while offering to play him her a violin.

He accepted.

It's a sad, melody. Always classic music puts silence into a room, and a heavy feeling in the chest of many, many humans. He, however, can appreciate the calm feeling it provides, although he's never entirely been brought to an emotional place because of a music piece, not even his wife's music had that affect.

Oh...right.

His mood drops, Seven sees it, and she tries to smile and play better, but it wasn't her performance that made a sour taste in his mouth. It was the thought of his wife- his beloved, the only other being he had ever given himself to entirely- that made him flinch. She was his everything, pure, and always so optimistic despite his pessimism outlook on everything.

She always helped him see two sides to every story and yet, he's often discriminating her memory with each passing touch on Four.

For once, he has some sort of feeling he doesn't recognize. It's a bitter feeling, cold, and somehow clammy and-

It's guilt.

...

He's in a sour mood and the children avoid him, making him in an even worse mood. He walks to his room, disregarding Two's glare, Three's flinching, and One's wandering eyes full of curiosity. He avoids them all, noting with anger that Four was not among them.

He just wants to wash this feeling away. Take so much of Four that he won't be able to feel the disgust and dirt filling his veins, as if his wife is looking down on him with shame.

...

_"Humans are amazing, Reginald", she had told him once while he smoothed her hair, her aching had stopped for the night. A miracle with how high her fever was that morning._

_"They are rather emotionally encumbered and low on the intelligence scale. A species so far behind in evolution can not be seen as amazing," he lectures, he knows he does...and he knows how much she dislikes it._

_"Regin-" she coughs and he leans her up off the cot and pats her back. She grasps his shirt, holding tightly before bringing him into his embrace. "You need to be more open-minded, dear- or else you overlook the important things."_

_"Like?" He inquires loosening his posture so she can more fully melt into him, relieving her tension-filled joints._

_"Humans can change Reginald, they do it every day. That makes them much more amazing than any other species in the universe."_

_He says nothing but she smiles at him so softly that he looks away to her violin. "Enough of all that," he discards the conversation, leaning her back on the cot gently before receiving her Violin. "Won't you play for me?"_

_"Always, my love," she extends her hands and he gently gives her the violin. She presses it against her shoulder as she sits upright, her fingers play memorized notes as the room seems to become alive. It's all a drop of water in the bigger ocean that is her._

_Always a calm, relaxed reflection of that he's always watched with wonder._

...

He just wants to be alone. 

He'll start the fire in his office, and slide the armchair so it's sitting in front of it and then- he'll sit there and simmer until he's back to feeling some sense of normalcy.

Unfortunately, he takes one step in his room and comes face to face with Four, examining all the various nicknacks he's collected over the years. Particularly Four is picking up an old whip. One made of over a thousand's different women's hair, forged through blood and sweat to overcome their dictators. It's said to be haunted, but he's never been interested in testing that out.

The entire story behind it is more of a myth than truth.

"You-"

Four sits down the whip, turning on his heels with a look of glee as he throws his hands up. "Yes, tis is I- your favorite child! The one and only Four!" Four mumbles something else afterward but he doesn't hear it, he's too just- over it all.

He isn't emotional and doesn't much care for doing things brought on by guilt and anger. 

"Are you okay?" Four asks, tilts his head all doggy like, and then he starts to come closer like- Like he's actually concerned- and it makes him frown even harder.

"Fine."

"No, absolutely not. This is why you don't have any friends!" Four points a finger at him accusingly. "Always pretending like you've got to do everything and be better than everyone else."

Perhaps-but not even the start of his current issues.

"Aren't you-" a noise of frustration falls from his lips before he takes a few steps and bridges the gap between him and Four. He captures Four's lips before slipping his tongue inside, making a mess of Four's confidence. He pushes Four into a dresser and a vase falls off, shattering onto the Floor as Four's eyes go wide in shock.

A strain of salvia connects them for a moment when he pulls away. The taste of tobacco on his tongue from Four's own mouth. Disgusting-Since when did Four smoke?

Just another thing that sets him off.

"Don't you understand anything?" He practically yells, his dull nails dig along Four arms as he glares, making Four seem smaller beneath him. Four shivers, looking at him like- like he just doesn't understand. "Where is your self-preservation? Why do you continuously seek out my presence? Are you really that obtuse?"

"What?" Four stutters, hissing when his nails dig deeper, breaking into Four's soul skin. "I thought you wanted me to stick close to you?"

He says nothing, just pulls Four backward until his knees hit the bed and he drags Four onto him, forcing Four to sit on his lap. Four does so with little resistance, still, there's tension, a new look of fight or flight but the loyalty and lack of true self-esteem prevents him from running.

Although Four could. The door isn't even locked, not that it had ever really been.

"What's wrong?" Four asks again, shakily. "You know...I don't actually hate you. Sure I hate the things you do but...I could never really hate you. You're my dad above any other shit you put me through...and I do care about you."

He says nothing although he thinks his ears burn at the foul language. He buries his face in Four's neck as he removes Four's clothes. He bites the scar, attempting to gain some footing in reality. "I'm starting to think...you really want me to do these things to you."

Four snorts before sitting down on him more firmly as if finally getting comfortable. "How many times have I told you no? I just know it's easier if I don't fight...and I'm injured right now anyway. If you tear me again so soon, mom said I'd be in the infirmary for two weeks and-"Four trails off, frowning.

"And Six?"

"He promised not to watch."

Four just sits there, on his lap, his face on his shoulder, an arm behind his back as if pulling him closer, as if saying he wants this too, although he always denies it.

He's back to the source of his guilt yet, strangely enough, he feels none at the moment. Not even an ounce as he continues undressing Four, he'd even go as far as feeling satisfaction when he removed Four's boxers and was met by a half hard-on, which Four blushed profusely at.

"Stop staring," Four scolds him, pouting, bringing his knees closer together in an effort to conceal himself. "You know I can't control it-"

"Or...have you ever considered that you deep down inside... enjoy this?" Four pales and shakes his head- it isn't that.

"I'm injured," Four reminds him.

"I know," he replies, leaning in as he licks down Four's chest, feeling each piece of skin move beneath his wet touch. It's salty...but pleasing to the tastebuds, if only a little bitter. 

"But-"

"I thought you said you weren't afraid of me?"

Four goes silent.

He rearranges Four on the bed, spread out nicely for him, although he knows how much Four hates being looked at like this. "I'm still very disappointed in you Four...last time was a fiasco I would not like to repeat." 

Four tenses up as his fingers travel across his thighs before one lands between his legs, softly touching his entrance. Four's legs shut as he almost yelps at the intrusion.

"What's wrong? Do you believe I'll hurt you again?" He runs a hand over Four's legs before prying him open, forcing his legs apart as his other hand rubs around Four's entrance. "What kind of monster do you take me for? Of course, I know we can't have intercourse."

Four cringes at that word before slightly relaxing. Somehow having trust after so many times of being ignored and abused. So hopeful, humans are. They pray and hope for change yet, they fail to see that most things don't change, just the way you see them does.

Or perhaps he's wrong. He was never knowledgeable on the subject, nor does he wish to know, for humans are subjects that can never fully be studied despite the fact that many people try to.

He sighs and simply lays down beside Four, defeated. Absolutely disappointed that after all that he couldn't even do anything because Four is injured and he knew that from the start but-

He pinches the bridge of his nose as his erection burns, reminding him of its presence and for a mere moment he just sits there off in his own little world, until Four comes along and shatters it, poking his arm lightly.

"Dad?"

He hums in acknowledgment.

"Aren't you going to...you know?" Four gestures to his own naked body in confusion.

"No." 

"Oh...alright."

Silence.

"Are you mad at me?" Four says, looking up at the ceiling as well.

"No."

More silence.

"Are you sure?"

He sighs, rolling over and bringing a hand to Four's face, caressing his cheeks. "I am," he leans in and captures another kiss, and Four simply stares with curiosity...and something like fear beneath it all.

"I'm glad," Four whispers, more to himself than anything, as he moves closer and buried himself against his chest of his own accord. Four is solid against him, warm, and...it's rather nice although he can't say he's much for cuddles despite how often he holds Four.

Four kisses his neck lightly before going lax against him, almost in surrender. The meaning of the whole exchange is lost on him, but he's sure he'll figure it out in a week, when he has his head screwed on straight.

...

He plays with Four's curls.

"Do you feel better?"

He rubs a hand across Four's neck.

"You're probably right about me."

He peppers a few kisses along Four's arm up to his palm.

"I lack self-preservation or whatever you said. I know Ben thinks I'm stupid right now- well he doesn't tell me that but he looks at me like 'really Klaus' every time I even get near you."

He rubs Four's palm.

"Are you even listening?"

He spreads Four's fingers, and appreciates his soft skin, not covered in callouses despite all his training.

"You know...I know there's something wrong here. This isn't normal, I'm not stupid. You don't drag away Luther or Diego or Allison, right? But...I also know you could if you wanted to."

He sighs before finally acknowledging Four with a simple hum. Four flinches, taking back his hand. 

"You're...sick."

"I am."

"And I'm the cure?"

"The best medicine mankind can offer."

Four simply stares at him with narrowed eyes for a while until finally coming to some conclusion. "I don't like sex," Four whispers as if in revelation before rolling over and facing the opposite way, his ears burn- and he struggles to figure out of Four reached that conclusion from their previous conversation but-

Humans are strange.

He doesn't touch Four again, but he does feel marginally better so he sits up, and decides to do paperwork. There's much work that goes into enrolling Seven, including almost a hundred thousand dollar tuition which he is still considering what to do with.

Hold it above Seven's head? Add interest so the child can never escape his grasp? Or perhaps offer Four to pay it off- one thousand dollars for each sexual experience- sounds better each time he thinks about. Or he could do something nice for once and forget about the money...but he has very little interest in this opinion- it isn't like he promised Four it'd be free. But- he digresses. 

He'll sleep on the thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mm you don’t know how much I’ve always wanted to write a pre-canon Reginald story about his past/wife, how he decided he’d save the world and all that jazz.
> 
> Ah his wife is a lovely character.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The calm before the storm? Or the storm before the hurricane- you decide lol.
> 
> Anyway, I had a lot more free time than I thought I’d have today. Although I don’t usually upload more than one chapter a day but this one is a short chapter so why not?

"It's getting harder and harder to complete our duty," One tells him as they walk the courtyard once again. If only because he doesn't want to face the fact that Four spent the majority of the day throwing up in the bathroom- even though he acted like he was fine.

"I suppose it would be. Six was the much of the muscle."

One hums, looking at him with just so much curiosity that he's sure it's because he suspects something. "Yes...he was. They still blame me for his death."

He peers over to the statue and he could imagine the children standing beneath, talking to it, trying their very best to act like Six wasn't gone, although the children cared very little for Six when he was alive.

"Dad...the other day you...were going to kiss me weren't you?" One asks, kicking up dirt as he did when he was nervous or frustrated.

"Does that bother you?"

One says nothing at first. Just sighs in almost disappointment before stopping his walk. "Don't you think that's strange? Even if was a joke."

"One," he scolds, as he does when a conversation is going in a direction he doesn't care for. 

One straightens up and changes the subject. "Three has been talking about going into modeling."

He ignores the rest of One’s rambling and instead focuses on the fact that he still hasn’t decided what to do with Seven’s debt to him.

...

"I guess the Umbrella Academy was good for something," Two tells Four as he pats his back, talking Four through his sudden 'sickness'. "On the last mission, the one with the museum and that freaky old painting we had to protect? I talked to the police chief after about joining the police academy-"

Four gags again, shoving his face into the toilet seat before throwing up another slew of pink and green bile. "You're doing good," Two tells him, rubbing his back again. "It'll pass."

Four throws up once more before leaning against the toilet, pale, and tired. "He said that he'd put in a good word for me," Two continues, pulling Four, and when Four slumps over his head is in Two's lap.

"Oh Klaus," Two sighs, rubbing a hand along Four's pale cheeks. "You don't talk to me anymore...it hurts you know. I wish you'd tell me why."

Four says nothing but he throws a hand over his mouth as his 'sickness' comes back.

...

"Reginald," Grace says as she dusts the parlor room, her eyes glare at him, if that's even possible- which it isn't. It's just how hard the intensity of her look is that makes it seem that way. "I really don't fancy your treatment of Four." She picks up a vase, dusting off the stand it had sat on.

Had she ever?

"Please be more considerate of his current condition. The child has very little self esteem and has begun to accept this behavior of yours as normal. This is unhealthy for his growth."

He doesn't listen.

...

Seven packs her things, for she'll be leaving within a month.

The first child to escape, the first child to start a revolution. That's all it takes, one child, and suddenly all the other child are on board with the whole- lets leave this place as soon as possible- and although that's always been the plan he can't help but notice how quiet it's been.

Her escape is two years early, Seven must know she's special.

...

Four doesn't eat dinner. He picks at it with little interest.

...

Two days later he receives a letter in the mail. Something of a stranger's claim to have 'witnessed' abuse going on within the household.

He throws the letter in the parlor fire.

...

Three begins to grow closer to Seven, doing her makeup, giving her second hand clothing, and telling her stories at night about boys.

Seven is happier than she has been in years with the sudden contact from Three.

...

One builds a model airplane and hangs it up in his room. He grows distant where about his siblings had grown closer.

One is right of course, everyone still believes he is responsible for Six's death.

...

Four cringes at his touch, unable to hide his disgust at it as he has done before, although he has a stupid smile on his lips like he thinks he is fooling anyone. 

"Can we not today?" Four asks softly, so very pleading, an already green tint seemed to appear as with a red ring around his eyes. He's been having nightmares again but that was nothing new. 

"Reason?" He inquires while he kisses Four against a wall, knowing just how much Four wants to crawl away with the sudden hurl of his stomach. Four shoves a hand over his mouth, closing eyes for a moment.

"I'm not well."

Never was Four well.

Three whispers to One, One laughs at her joke. Lunch goes on as Four suffers just rooms away. 

This is always his favorite contradiction. Although he's sure this is Four's least favorite location.

He kisses Four again, only to receive heavy hands on his chest, pushing him away. "I'm going to throw up," Four says, leaning over on himself slightly.

"Even if you do, I won't stop."

Four goes still and doesn't protest again when he kisses him, even as he swallows again and again his own bile. "Please dad..."

He isn't listening...at least he’s trying not to.

“I hate you,” Four mumbles, but there is no fire, no burning rage, just disgust and disappointment...as if Four is upset with himself that he can’t make that statement true. Loyalty and bonds of blood are much harder to break than to make...because when you care about someone you always make excuses for their actions.

...

"Don't you think you should discourage everyone from leaving The Umbrella Academy?"

He says nothing.

One frowns, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. "I don't think anyone wants to be here...except me of course."

He says nothing again.

...

It had been a quiet day and he’d finally decided on billing Seven a few years down the road for her debt. He stopped by the parlor, meaning to grab a book to read only to be greeted by Four.

Four is reading and mumbling things to Six as he is going along. Just content, relaxed on the parlor couch as Grace sets down a plate of cookies for him.

He watched as Grace gave Four a kiss on the forehead before walking out, giving him a passing look of 'be kind.' But it's lost on him.

He walks inside and Four doesn't flinch, doesn't even acknowledge his presence until he's leaning down and capturing Four's lips in a kiss that Four doesn't fight, only his eyes look off, scared, and they beg for something of someone who can't do a thing.

Only then does a floorboard creek and he feels eyes on his. So intense that it couldn't have been Grace. And it wasn't- as he let's go of Four and turns to the doorway there is One, just staring in disbelief.

He decides then and there that it'll be a long night.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I don’t have a ton of time to check this over right now :(
> 
> Ugh I ended up with three different drafts of this chapter and I’m still not happy. Don’t worry though this chapter is supposed to be anticlimactic~
> 
> Cough cough *Luther* Cough cough *not being helpful* cough cough

One doesn't speak, doesn't even move for an entire minute it seems like while the gears in his head are turning and turning. His eyes are searching for something, a reasonable explanation, a reasonable chance that what he saw wasn't what he thought he saw...

Four shuts his book with a dull thud, the first noise to break the silence and instead of going off on some irrelevant ramble, Four just puts his fingers to his lips. He bites on his nails with fever, an easy way to self-harm without raising any red flags.

Four only bit his nails when he was nervous or- felt trapped. He hadn't done that in so long that, the action sticks out, makes One look even more confused.

It's a complex situation...but he didn't raise One to be a coward. Even as One takes a step back like he's about to bolt...he won't. He can't. If One runs away from this he'd be lesser than trash.

One is not a coward. He's a leader and that makes him full of fidelity as where his siblings are lacking. If it were Two who saw there might have been arguing or even Three would have put up some protest but One?

One can't comprehend it nor could he begin to see this as anything but a misunderstanding.

"Dad," One says, so small, so uncertain as his eyes go to Four and stay on him for a great moment, tracing all of Four.

Four's nails that are cracking from his chewing, the small bubbling blood that drips down his fingers, Four's gaze that is on something no one else can see, but his posture is still open, relaxed, he hasn't even moved away or tried to hide behind his knees like had been prone to before.

"Were you kissing Four?"

Four smiles against his nails, as if he's heard a good joke. 

"And if I was?" He deadpans the question, letting the edge of it make One flinch as his eyebrows crinkle. 

"Well- I mean- isn't it- you know-" Many sentences are started, none find any real purchase on One's tongue. "Why?"

He takes a step forward, One doesn't take a step back although he looks like he wants to. "What do you mean why? Are you asking why parents kiss their children? Or why people kiss in general? Or why I would kiss Four? These seem like questions you should pose to your mother."

One blinks a few times, looking over at Four again. At the way Four doesn't even seem to care- just off in his own little world.

"I'm sorry," One said with somewhat of an awkward bow. "I'll ask mother such questions, sorry for intruding."

Four finally looks up to One as he drops his hands, letting his nails rest from his torture. "You're seeing things, Luther. Dad's just messing with you- it wasn't a kiss." Four makes a few gestures in the air. "He was just scolding me for smoking- tobacco breath and all."

One seems to actually relax. He's been given a reason, although a poor one, one good enough that he can reasonably accept it and move on. "Sorry for intruding," One says again before looking away, waiting to be dismissed.

"You may go."

One disappears quickly into the kitchen where Grace is preparing dinner.

He adjusts his Monocle as he turns back to Four who has a look of pure anger towards him which- is quite unjustified if you ask him. It's not like he asked One to come into the parlor and be nosy.

"Why must you be like this?" Four growls though it lacks any real fire. it's clear Four intended there to be some but there isn't. "Why couldn't you have just said no! Couldn't you see how he kept looking at me?"

He goes to open his mouth, to say yes, of course he did. One was looking at him in confusion and a pinch of pity if he was generous. Four speaks before he can.

"He looked at me like I was naked!" Well, it's clear Four is completely diluted at this point. One most certainly was not looking at Four like that, in fact, it was quite the opposite. "He looked at me like I was spread out like a good meal and- you- he looked at you like nothing- just a bystander. It was like he was saying it was all my fault and you- you had no choice in the matter!"

Four is yelling, making a scene, making a terrible racket that he's sure One and Grace must hear from just the next room over. "I...even if it is my fault...what am I supposed to think when someone looks at me like that- especially Luther of all people," Four voice gets lower, anger seeming to dissipate with each word until he's just bringing his hand back to his mouth, biting another nail.

Grace peers out from the Kitchen with a frown. She takes an assessment of the situation before walking over and grabbing Four's hand lightly before pulling. "You haven't touched your cookies dear, aren't you hungry?" Four just stares at her. "Would you prefer cake instead? You can help me bake it."

Four nods lamely and Grace takes him into the kitchen without another word.

Soon enough there's small sounds of laughter- One and Four. A happy ending, made up relationships, repaired bridges, all of the likes, or so he will let himself believe.

...

"Sorry," One tells Four while smearing chocolate cake batter against Four's cheeks.

Four takes the spatula and spears a line across One's forehead in retaliation. 

Grace scolds them half-heartedly.

Boys will be boys, or so her program tells her.

...

Grace charges for a short time that night, watching her paintings as she always did- and found a child at her lap when she came back to reality- a new visitor- One.

...

Grace pours him his tea while she recounts her conversation with One. "He asked strange questions for a boy of his age," Grace says as she holds the teapot in her hand, smiling at him all the while. "I, of course, squished all his doubts about 'abnormal behavior.' As you would have wanted, right Reginald?"

He can't say he's happy. Not really, not even a little. From a scientific perspective, the fact that One could find himself truly wondering such questions means he must have slept during Grace's birds and the bees talk or he's too innocent for his own good. Either answer is completely disappointing but fine in the long run.

If One were to be encumbered with love and sex his ability to lead would be compromised.

"It's sir."

Grace pauses her smiling, for a moment it seems as if she's scanning him. "Yes, of course, sir, my apologies I'm not sure were my manners have gone." Grace does a little bow but her voice has something strange in it, like sarcasm, and he's not sure he likes it.

He's fine with evolution but he can't say he's fine with disobedience, especially not from her. Not from a creature he had created and he certainly will be thinking of reprogramming her again if such acts continue. He should have been on top of her deviance sooner but of course, like with most things, Four always throws him off track.

He should be brutal and uncaring yet Four is always distracting him and...he lets Four every time.

...

One doesn't mention the kiss again.

...

Four's first mission after his injury was a unique one. Not because it was necessarily dangerous or because it was completely different from ones they had done from the past but, it was just unique in the way that what they were supposed to find wasn't what they found.

They were sent through a cave system, One, Two, Three, and Four. It was supposed to be easy, find the ruin on the third left, translate it, and get out to tell the tale. Only the children were unaware of a trap door that had was voice-activated to open upon the ruin's translation.

While One, Two, and Three were quick on their feet, getting out of the way, Four was not- leaving him to fall through a trap door which left him stranded for approximately two hours.

Four did not fare well in the dark nor did he particularly care for the undead who roomed the dusty tomb he ended up in. He worked himself into such a panic that he didn't even recognize Two when he tried to rescue him.

In short-Four was given ice cream to calm his panic attack and One was scolded for not pulling Four out of the way.

...

Four refuses to go on another mission.

...

Two weeks left until Seven leaves and Three takes her out to a diner where they have a 'girls night.' According to Grace, this is beneficial for both children as they have lacked major female companionship their entire life.

This is, of course, untrue, since they had never gone without female companionship whether with the various nannies or Grace herself.

Grace says this is different. He disagrees.

Three’s allowance is cut in half and the child does not complain.

...

Two used his free time this week to get his driver's license. One is jealous.

...

"Won't you miss us?" Four pokes Seven's cheeks and Seven just blushes, looking away with a small frown.

"I'll write home whenever I can," she neither confirms nor denies that she will miss her family.

If he was a betting man he'd bet she won't. Never have they cared about her and although his influence may have forced them away from her as children, in recent years they've had more than enough time to make up with her but haven't. Aside from Three and Four's small and rather insignificant efforts, she remains the white sheep in a herd of black sheep.

The ordinary within the extraordinary, or so she believes.

...

Four has been avoiding him.

Not that he wasn't expecting that considering he had lectured the child on constantly following him like a puppy but it's been quiet. Unnaturally quiet, the type that adds a buzzing to his ears.

He is content.

...

One more week until Seven leaves.

The children throw her a small party in the attic. He was not a fan of it but Four swayed him with a simple 'daddy.' He would not like to recount how easily he had given his approval.

In any case, Grace provided cake, each of the children gave Seven a fair well gift and Seven played her violin for the rest of the night.

...

On the day Seven left, the children were on a mission and Four was banished to his room for refusing to go.

Only he and Grace waved her farewell.

Seven hugged Grace for a long time before finally parting. She gets in the cab and takes one final look at her childhood home.

One of which she'd never return to.

...

When he retrieves the children that evening they are haggard. Dirty, bloody, and most certainly tired. They bathed and Four watches but he is not permitted to help with their wounds.

Two particularly has a large gash up his arm that needed stitches but it shouldn't scar.

...

The house is quiet.

...

It's nearly three days later that he and Four have any real conversation and it's a rather poor one. "You should let me decorate," Four demands, gesturing wildly around the kitchen as if the kitchen somehow has faults.

Which it doesn't. It's completely functional and design-wise simple.

"No, Four," he declines Four's most definitely great design skills if his occasional drawings are anything to go by- he's absolutely too abstract.

"You're no fun."

He wasn't supposed to fun, none of this was supposed to be fun. But fun somehow did make its way in and made things easier for a short time. When the children considered The Umbrella Academy just a game...they had an easier time playing along, now they seem to struggle.

"Anyway, you really made Luther upset. You should apologize."

Upset? At what? He frowns as he grabs a cloth and brings it upstairs, Four trailing behind with nothing better to do, seeing as his siblings had gone on a mission without him.

"He said that you tried to kiss him before..."

The house is quiet. Sometimes before you could hear Seven playing the violin but now, there's nothing but the creaking of old floorboards and a scarily few of which seem very unstable but he'll worry about that when it becomes a problem.

"Four, I'm not in the mood," He waves Four off, dismissing him, hoping Four would find something productive like reading or even baking with Grace but Four is not like the other children. 

Four goes through phases. Sometimes completely relaxed with him, sometimes completely terrified, sometimes just numb. Which he knows is a combination of him being high and which side of the bed he wakes up on that day.

Although Grace would say this is all side effects of rape and sexual assault- the fact that even after all this time Four still can't decide whether or not he should be afraid or not. Whether or not he's crazy and he's supposed to like it or if he's sick for even entertaining the idea of it being normal.

Four has an abundance of thoughts and most of them probably conflict so he has an easier time not thinking about it. Like he has an easier time with sex when he doesn't fight it.

"And what? Are you jealous?"

Four hits him lightly, as if in a jolly manner before walking a few steps ahead. "Were you even listening. This is about Luther, not me."

"So you are."

"No."

"You're full of lies."

"That isn't true."

He reaches the top of the steps and turns towards the child's bedrooms. "I just...I just can't help but imagine how my life would have been if you would have chosen someone else. I...is that wrong of me? It's probably messed up, isn't it? To wish my life on to someone..."

He says nothing but he enters Seven's room before handing the cloth to Four. "Dust this space," he waves a hand, and Four shrugs his shoulders before doing something of the sort.

The room is ordinary.

The room is an eyesore.

The room is- no longer needed.

...

Four ends up taking a sledgehammer to the wall separating his and Vanya's room. Taking the room over on the rare occasion he is left alone during a mission.

Grace observed but did nothing.

...

On the way home from the mission, One, Two, and Three sat quietly in the back of the car until One broke it. The kiss between he and Four came up. He heard One whisper to Three and Three giggles and taking it not so seriously as if the subject had come up before in conversation and Two-

Two scoffs and said something underneath his breath- "Am I the only one not crazy around here."

One insists it really happens, in sharp whispers, and Three shrugs her shoulders in a maybe. Two doesn't even give One acknowledgment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the kiss was suppose to be just a thing to get the children suspicious...but the actual reveal will happen next chapter...
> 
> Also I don’t usually spoil things but the entire point of this chapter is that Vanya won’t know about Klaus’s abuse until forever on down the line...long after she writes her book...


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 drafts later here this chapter is.
> 
> :(
> 
> Aka the chapter otherwise labeled “Klaus in complete and utter denial.”

Four spends almost an entire week on his new room project. This is the most motivated the child had been in months and frankly, was actually productive...except doing construction without asking is completely unorthodox behavior. 

He'll make sure to keep it in mind for future punishment.

For now, Four sands down his wall going into his new extended space, making the jagged edges blend together. At some point, One offers to help and together they get rid of most of the debris out in the courtyard.

Four is a glistening mess when he's done, sweaty, but a smile on his face of true satisfaction.

"Dad won't like this," One tells Four.

Four looks at him with a shrug. 

Four is proud of himself of his accomplishment, although it isn't really anything amazing. In fact, it's really just the way things were always meant to go. Four being over ambitious and Seven being soft and pushable...Four probably had an easy time convincing Seven she should go chase her dreams, be a violinist.

What a funny thought. To think for a moment of Four being manipulative...

...

Grace is humming something sweet, something that seems strange, out of place in the halls that are bare and lifeless. 

...

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

"No."

Four looks disheartened, hand on his chest as if in pain before he pretends to faint in the armchair. His head slamming against the wooden exterior with a terrible crack and- he's got to give Four a B for effort.

At least Four's dramatics were still up to snuff. 

Four cracks an eye open and peers at him before opening the other. "How could you deprive me of the knowledge I so seek?! What kind of monster are you?"

He stares at his journal with little interest. It was mainly blank, only had a few lines about One's interest in astronomy and Three's new obsession with styling her hair in ways that made her vulnerable during missions.

"The best kind," he answers, closing his journal before clicking his pen a few times against the leather cover.

"Oh?" Four says, challenging, a small smile makes it way across his lips.

He wanted to play along, he did. He wanted to do what Four wanted, what Four so longed for...but he wouldn't.

He isn't the type of monster Four takes him for. He isn't going to be cruel to Four, not like this, not without a reason...because Four is supposed to grow to have feelings for him, small little feelings that he'll hate himself for.

Four was already close to that...or maybe he was already there.

"Is that really a good thing," Four mumbles, dropping his smile, and simply turning his head to peer into the fire that crackles with joy at the attention.

He says nothing but there's a single knock on the door and Grace comes in with his tea, ending the mood and preventing any further conversation.

...

Four is sprawled out on his bed like a good boy, his clothes already removed, his eyes already glassed over with something, and his lips glistening- so beautiful each time he shifts his head. 

A perfect little toy for him to do with what he desires. 

"Kiss me," he instructs and Four does so with little tension, with little fear. Four has become so much softer for him...as if it's true affection. As if he squinted his eyes he could truly imagine Four felt something for him...although he's not delusional enough to believe that.

It's just conditioning.

"Again," he demands and Four does so, his lips so soft when he kisses as if housing mutual affection and not lust.

Not like when he kisses Four and it's harsh even though he tries to be soft. It's always underlined by lust or dominance...but when Four does it there's none of that.

"Have you ever tried to imagine how you look at me?" Four asks, hand coming up to trace his lips with a fluttering touch. "You look like you want to eat me. Like I'm a slab of meat and you're starving."

Four is soft.

"Do I make you hungry? Is that your sickness?"

He says nothing, just captures Four's lips to stop his blabbering. Four's hand comes up to push at his chest for a mere moment before he drops it. Almost like it was simply a reflex he had forgotten to turn off.

He was supposed to punish Four. For his disobedience and disorderly conduct when he extended his room without even asking and yet- he wasn't.

He sits up, undressing slowly, Four doesn't even get that look of fear anymore. Instead, for a moment he gets pale...like he's about to throw up, but then it's gone just like that. 

A millisecond reaction.

"Have I ever told you about my plans to dominate the casinos?" Four asks while following his hands, following as each piece of clothing is discarded. "I was going to play poker...and have Ben spy on the other player's cards- but he said it isn't right and refused- like an idiot. We could have been rolling in the money."

He isn't listening.

Four sits up, on his knees, a small sway as blood rushes to his head. "I have a theory," Four says, poking him lighting on the cheek. "I bet if you smiled more you'd have loving, adoring fans."

He would most certainly not.

"It'd be great, dad. Just imagine."

It would not.

"Please Four be quiet."

Four looks offended but his mouth stays shut. "Now if you don't mind, touch me," another demand as he discards his last piece of clothing, and Four looks at him with narrowed eyes.

It takes Four a moment to actually get over himself and touch him. Bringing a single hand out to grasp his erection, stroking it with little enthusiasm- this was something they'd definitely have to work on- but for now, it was fine.

He ends up closer to Four, a simple attraction to body heat, and Four looks away. Never once does Four look at what he's doing as if he thinks if he doesn't look it's not real. 

Four isn't touching his father, he just can't be, right? As if that's how this worked but Four was a fragile thing, unable to handle most things without laughing his way through it or- ignoring it entirely.

He allowed Four to stroke him to his heart's content and afterward attempted to return the favor.

Four was not happy with this, despite the fact that he was rarely ever brought to completion...

In the end, Four refused, and he did not fight Four on the matter.

...

He's been walking with One a lot recently. 

It's a strange practice really but in theory, it should bring them closer, more comfortable with one another, and when the time comes that the children begin to leave- One will stay like a loyal pup forever at his side.

One is uncertain though, as he walks, his eyes always looking over at him and away then back, always wondering something. "Do you wish to talk about it?" He asks, although he really has no interest in bringing up the kiss again. Perhaps it would be better to have Three rumor away One's memories of it.

"I was...wondering how long that's been going on." It wasn't accusing- One spoke about it like it was a secret relationship, not a one-sided affair.

Right, what other conclusions would One come to? Four defended the kiss, waved off all of One's concern like it was meaningless. One must have concluded it was none of his business- he was never that knowledgeable about love.

"A year," he lies, finding the opportunity to finally talk about it somehow inspiring. Like some sort of heavyweight in his chest was being lifted, although he believes this is merely a result of his heart beating faster due to the exercise.

"Oh," One says, starts to scratch his neck, red beginning to travel up the skin there. "So it's been a while."

He nods, a sick feeling settling into his stomach, just loving how easily One eats this up. "You see," he continues on, a smile threatening to appear on his lips-"Four is a little slut, always begging to be held down-" and he's smiling just like that-"I couldn't let Four go out and mingle with the public of course. I wouldn't like to imagine what that would do to our reputation. So I was forced to take care of him- I'm just a victim of circumstances here."

One eats it all up.

One knows better than anyone how much drugs Four has been on, how he's become touchy-feely, how he's become useless on missions, how his mouth is always running and-

One is blushing.

"You know...I bet he'd be happy to service you too-"One looks at him with something strange, a glassy-eyed look- something so familiar it's almost unsettling- it's hunger. An insatiable hunger, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared, nothing but a mistake. Nothing but One's virgin mind jumping on to the idea, feasting at the thought, and dropping it likes it's too hot to hold.

Oh, does he enjoy messing with One.

"Now One, as a leader it is your responsibility to keep your soldiers in check."

One's fingers are digging harder into his neck, and he swallows as he picks up his walking pace just a hair as if he wanted to get away from the conversation but was too stricken by his own body to do so- because One did enjoy the thought of Four. 

One did so much that he getting hard and whether it was really due to Four or just the thought of sex is debatable. One never had any sexual encounters, only had a few chaste kisses with Three and even then it was only when Three needed something from One. One was just her puppet- there was never any love there despite how One believes there is.

One swallows again before looking away. "No thank you," One said as his entire face flamed red. "I hope you can forgive me but I believe I'm ill-equipped for such matters."

Ah, smiling hurts.

...

It took about two days worth of convincing that Four should at least do training. If not missions, then training could keep him on his toes and prevent him from becoming a lazy druggie (which he was already.) 

Four was sluggish with his movements. Instead of dodging left he dodged right, instead of moving back, he moved to the side, and overall his performance just kept getting worse and worse. Three took pity on Four and let him win a round.

When it came to fighting One, Four was better, if only because Four was more nimble than One. It was only going good for Four for about two minutes but he had dropped and did a roll to escape a punch from One and that was that. Four lost momentum and when he tried to get on his feet to dodge a kick to the ribs- he failed and most certainly felt a crack.

Four held his chest and panted against the dirt for ages. One apologized for being so rough but training is training.

"No hard feelings?" One asked shakily, noting how his eyes were stuck on Four's lips the entire time. 

"Love you too," Four muttered after he mustered up the courage to sit up, spitting out blood for a moment before standing.

Then it came to fighting Two. Two was vicious, none of his movements were held back, even as he used his blade with each swipe of his hand, knowing just a cut to Four's neck could end his life yet- Two would not hold back his own strength because Four had let himself go.

At least, that's what he believed but Two's movements eventually slowed and he allowed the fight to take on a more reasonable pace. Four had even been able to land a punch and Two in retaliation stabbed his blade towards Four.

Four ducks, just barely missed being stabbed through his right shoulder but instead, his shirt is cut clean through. His jacket had been discarded at the beginning of the fight, and with this new hole in the shoulder of the shirt- he could just barely catch a glimpse of that beautiful little scar.

Four doesn't realize this though, and instead just falls on his butt, panting, wide-eyed. "Come on, Diego! Be nice, would you? I don't go waving a knife at you!"

Two is staring at that scar, narrowing eyes. Clearly perplexed at the sight of something that didn't belong there.

One rolls his eyes at the fight and Three brushes up against his arm and smiles.

Four grabs his shirt and pulls it down, unwillingly causing more of the scar to be shown. Like a big flashing neon light that screams 'look at me,' and Two does just that. "This was my favorite shirt! I know I have five just like it but, this one was stretched out! I could lounge in it for hours."

Two slips his knife away, a frown on his lips as he bends down and gets closer to Four. Expecting him, and finally, Four realized what's really going on.

Two knows his dirty secrets.

"Klaus."

Four says nothing, paling at the very fact that Two is looking so deeply at him. "Klaus, you-"Two reaches out a hand to touch, to caress that scar and Four bats that hand away, growling.

"Don't."

Two doesn't try again.

"Klaus that- when did you get it? You always tell me these things...don't you?"

Four says nothing, just shrugs his shoulders before standing. Two stands too, smiling sadly at Four, and then he says it- "Did dad do that?" 

Everything comes crumbling down.

Four flinches, takes an entire step back as he looks physically hurt-but then he smiles and laughs a little. "Oh Diego, don't be crazy."

It's the strangest thing. The fact that Four has this opportunity to tell everyone yet, he hesitates. He's afraid, so very afraid of his siblings knowing...even though he spent the majority of his life trying to convince them he wasn't crazy.

"I'm not crazy- not like everyone else here- dad definitely did that, didn't he? What are you his possession? Don't tell me...don't tell you were really serious about what you said-"

Four says nothing, turning away with something like shame on his face. "What's it to you," Four says, bites out really, so unwilling to open up about anything. "How I live my life is none of your concern."

Four says all this as if he likes it. Like he has somehow convinced himself that he's in love, that he's fine with the affection and sex he had once fought so hard against. It's like...like he's so messed up in the head that not even his heart can tell him this is wrong anymore.

This is just Four's life. Four has been living it for years and maybe all it took was that 'tearing incident' to lead Four to realize it's better to like it, to allow it all to happen without fighting against it because- because he's less likely to get hurt that way.

"So...you really had sex with dad?" Two is really in disbelief and he cringes a little at his own suggestion- like he can't even comprehend the very reason anyone would want to do that.

One doesn't flinch at the conversation instead he turns and begins to walk the courtyard- uninterested in hearing a story he's already heard before. Three just stands there and gets paler and paler with each word, she's on the edge of being sick.

"I did- I do all the time," Four is confident- so sickly okay with everything that it's completely unsettling even to him. 

So unsettling that pain grows in the front of his skull and as soon as Grace walks outside with her plate of baked goods he simply leaves. Walks straight out of the situation to get the rest of the story from Grace.

...

Two is just trying to understand. 

Instead of throwing Four underneath the bus or in a fire, he simply asks for means of learning the strange situation he's been forced to look at.

Two just wants to know how all these puzzle pieces link together.

"So...you are into old men...Is that new?"

Four taps on Two's shoulder and turns away. "I guess...you can say I am...but I'd really prefer not to talk about it."

Two looks at Four strangely then, something just clicks and suddenly he's concerned. "You do want it right? Dad isn't forcing you or something?"

"Huh? Of course not D, I'm a big boy, aren't I? As if I'd let dad push me around...I don't let him force me on to missions do I?" 

"Well no but- you always talk about things you're passionate about until we all go deaf-"

Three makes a noise of agreement, taking a step towards Four, still so pale. 

"This is different- it's...private...I don't want to air out my dirty laundry."

Two doesn't look happy with that- but he has to be. He has to respect Four's decisions even if they are stupid ones because Four isn't a child- they are the same exact age and Two knows that they are old enough to make their own decisions- good or bad.

Still, it makes Two uncomfortable and he really wished Four would say more, put his doubts to sleep, but Four said nothing.

"I need to-" Three was gone within a second, away to a side of the courtyard to throw up. One was by her side six steps, holding her hair back.

"Cookies?" Grace holds the tray out for them, and Four takes one, munching on it with a big old grin.

"Thank you, mom! It's delicious."

Two hugs Four- it's unexpected- just happens so quickly that Four drops his cookie. "Hey!" Four protests, pushing against Two but Two just hugs him harder.

"I hope you know what you're doing, playing with fire like this. That man is a monster."

Four nods against him, hugging Two back. 

"I...if you ever want to talk I'm here you know...I wish you would have told me sooner I know...I was always being an ass about it but-"

"I know," Four says, burying his face into Two's neck, taking a deep breath. Two relaxes some, sighing with a hot breath against Four's skin. 

"Here I thought Luther was the only one with daddy issues."

Four pulls back with a glare before punching Two on the chest lightly. "I do not have daddy issues."

"Mmm- then what do you call warming his bed?"

Four says nothing, just blushes as he avoids Two's eyes.

...

The children One, Two, and Three hold a 'secret meeting' in the attic away from Four. They discuss the big picture, the disgust in such acts that Four has probably committed- but they recognize that Four is big enough to make his own decisions.

With one adding to the conversation that Four is simply attention-starved and will probably grow out of this phase with time...

Three is uncomfortable with the conversation and prefers to pretend that she doesn't know.

Two agrees somewhat with One- it must be some phase- but still, he finds the whole thing...odd? That's the word. It all just a hair off-center for Four but he concedes to attempt to be okay with it. 

Just for Four's sake.

But then it all comes back to Two in uncomfortable ways...how Four had always joked about it for years. But he tried his best to assume that this was a recent development like dad told One...obviously Four just always had a crush on the old man right?

That must be it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had plans for a bigger reveal like a siblings walking in on Reggie and four but after two different drafts of that I was like ugh. It just was too over the top or maybe too sudden so I settled for a reveal that more eased the children into the idea.
> 
> Anyway, eventually the children will grow some brain cells I swear...
> 
> The ending of this story is coming up within a few chapters and well, it’s going to be about as happy as it can be for Klaus.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know if two chapters in a day is like a weird thing? I mean I never do it but when chapters are this short I don’t really like to upload them on their own? You know? Idk maybe that’s weird.
> 
> Anyway here’s another chapter~

It was a strange atmosphere. Almost charged with something unknown, making the air dense and harder to breathe and- the children just looked at one another strangely during breakfast- as if attempting to talk telepathically with each other.

Their attempts must go poorly because Two frowns and starts to stab his eggs, causing the yolk to bleed down his plate. Four frowns at this and shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Nothing on One's face gives away any emotion.

Three, however, struggles to eat, her hands shaking and she has to swallow hard just to get anything in her stomach. Her face is so pale, so much paler than it's ever been and it causes Grace to lean down beside her and press her hand against Three's forehead, taking her temperature.

Grace dismisses Three to the infirmary for ibuprofen.

Three practically runs away from the table, almost tripping. She was extremely uncomfortable with this- and although he expected as much it was strange to see from her...and he wondered why she felt this way when she had her own feelings towards family.

Two stabs his eggs a few more times, looking at Four so intensely that Four leans into himself, hiding away from Two's gaze. Two attempts to make Four feel better by offering Four his toast through a few strange gestures.

Four takes the toast.

...

The children were raised to never fight a punishment or him on any matter. They do what they're told, when they're told, and that hasn't changed. 

He takes Two out for training. Simple. All Two has to do is throw his blades at a few targets.

Two's eyes keep looking over at him ever so often, narrowing in suspicion. 

"So...you're not going to talk about it?" Two asks while throwing a blade, it flys through the air for a few moments before landing perfectly on the bullseye.

"What can I say that hasn't already been said?”

Two's look falters for a moment as he swallows and shrugs. "You can't just act like this is normal," another blade is thrown, another bullseye hit.

"I...I can't believe Klaus would do this- that- willingly...but he's stuck singing the same tune." So suspicious Two's voice is, always Two has held the most resentment towards him- that monster comment had to have been the best indication of that- but for him to outright suggest something like this...even after pretending to be on board with Four is surprising for him.

"It's like it was rehearsed or something-” Two’s voice drops low and he starts whispering to himself something about blackmail.

He says nothing, Two is content talking to himself for the rest of training. Mumbling underneath his breath as he occasionally looks him straight in the eyes, as if challenging his theory, then he's right back to throwing blades almost in frustration.

...

Four smiles so much it's just hard to watch. So many false reassures to his siblings, so many false lies to himself, so many stupid little things Four does.

Like brushing Three's hair, braiding it during the night. Telling Three as he does so that what's going isn't as terrible as she thinks, and he continues to reassure her that he's okay with it- more than that- he loves it.

Eventually, Three seems to feel better about the whole situation and proceeds to do Four's makeup.

Disgusting-

The next day Four hangs out with One, letting One ask all the questions he wanted to and Four always answered happily and playful too at times.

_Four sang the same tune over and over._

"And...do you like guys or is it just a 'he's special sort of thing?'"

Four shrugs leaning into One, letting their legs touch. "I guess...maybe I like boys and girls."

One moves on to another question but Four shakes his head, uncomfortable now. Uncomfortable with personal questions he couldn't just lie and pretend were better than they were.

Then that night Four had a 'sleepover' with Two so very long did they talk. Two always poking at Four subtlety, asking if this was what Four really wanted and Four every time without fail said 'yes.'

Two pretended to be happy for Four, like he believed every word...but he had doubts.

...

He sits beside Four on the couch, One on the other side of him, and Two and Three on the other couch as Grace wrote on a white broad, teaching. 

Four acted like he was fine.

He takes Four's chin in his hand, leans his head up, and kisses Four just like that and- god does it feel empowering, completely different than before when he was forced to hide it.

One flinches-Two looks disgusted-Three looks away with her eyes closed-Grace's hand falters in her prefect writing- and Four, Four made a noise of satisfaction as if he had actually enjoyed it although he was completely stiff.

"You're beautiful," he whispers to Four, just loud enough that the others could hear but mistake it for gibberish if they so chose.

"Aren't I always?" Four giggles, so forced and terrible but- it's already so surreal that all his siblings can see is mutual affection.

He's going to like this new game of cat and mouse...he can tell already.

...

Another meeting in the attic that night called on by Two.

"It must be blackmail," Two whispers to One.

One shrugs, looking disinterested with the entire conversation. "Can't you just let him be happy?"

Two snorted-happy? Is that what happiness looked like? He supposes though that he doesn't know for sure that it isn't.

"Don't you think that...this is all- I don't know- the textbook definition of fucked up?"

One says nothing, standing up and moving to open the attic window. He sticks his head out and lets the wind ruffle his hair.

Three's head is against her knees. "I don't care if Klaus likes it...it's still so disgusting." Three's eyes dig holes into the floor for a moment. "If Klaus likes it...I won't tell him that. Klaus deserves to be happy don't you think? Maybe he's doing it because he wants dad's money when he dies. Like a gold digger..."

Two's leans back against the floor and stares at the ceiling. "I guess that could make more sense than a phase."

A few crickets chirp and chirp as the moon shines brightly in the sky, stars surrounding it. Hope within the darkness, always there as a reminder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;-; Oh my favorite children- why are you like this.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm well there’s a lot to unpack here but thats for you to do.
> 
> |Suicide attempt Warning|

Three was not doing well with the bigger picture. With the sight of Four smiling and laughing and willingly kissing him. The girl simply watched and kept getting more and more upset.

It was like a fire started in her heart and each moment it grew larger and larger until it threatened to burn her right to the ground. So uncontainable that it could ruin her, and yet all she could do was be sick. Something was holding back her anger, this clear fire she had and it took him a great while to figure it out.

It was her pride. Her pride as a big sister, as Number Three, as an extraordinary woman. She was gifted and special and- she couldn't let herself be consumed with this ill emotion but she was.

So much so that she practically shook each time Four was near her and Four mistook it for sickness. Each time Four would comfort her...tell her that everything is fine, and she would try to be okay with it. With the blood boiling in her veins because she was so very angry.

Disgusted, yes, but angry? She was much more livid than any volcano known to man. So much so that finally it came to a head and she had to say something.

"So you really were laughing at me?" Three says as she does Four's lipstick. 

Four tilts his head in confusion.

"I bent over backwards for you Klaus...I listened to you. To your words of dad touches me and what was that other thing you said-" Three stops and thinks for a moment but comes up empty. "You...you lied to me didn't you...I did so much for you and you were actually just riding on some high of a joke weren't you?"

Four stares at her shaking hands, at her half-lidded eyes, and all he can do is smile. "I did...your performance was quite the laugh."

Three slaps Four on his cheek, hard, the sound echoing through her room, and then she's crying. Just crying and crying- and Four simply wraps a hand around her and holds her close.

"I'm sorry about that...I was young and dumb. I just...had unchecked feelings and I thought- I wanted to know if dad would ever consider one of us-"

"Why...why do you like him?"

Four goes still for a moment, not for more than a second, not enough to be suspicious but then he's rubbing a hand down Three's back, comforting her. "I like his confidence."

Three just cries against his chest and Four's face is contorted into something painful, unable to pretend he's fine when the world is crumbling around him and it's all his fault.

...

Four downed a handful of pills and slept in the bathtub. He didn't come down for dinner.

...

"So...um, dad-" One makes a strange face. "Do...you know Four used to say bad things about you?"

"Yes," he places another log in the fireplace. "Four was touched starved as were many of you as children I'd imagine. Four, however, got into rather dirty magazines, playboy and the like through unprofessional nannies and his mind had ever since been corrupted."

One says nothing but he just looks at his own hands in wonder.

...

Grace checks on Four after the child had spent nearly five hours in the bathroom. Upon opening the door she's met with water cascading over the tub in a gentle river, the water barely turned on, and a small swirl of blood follows the wave and-

Four's right wrist is hanging over the tub, Three small cuts across it. Grace immediately puts pressure on Four's wrist and calls for Two.

...

Four didn't awake until the next day, Two by his side. "What's wrong with you?” Two questioned, he is so very upset with Four.

"Nothing," Four yawned and blinked a few times against the harsh white lights of the infirmary.

"You tried to kill yourself-"

"I didn't."

Two looks at Four with complete disbelief. First, it was 'I'm fucking dad,' and now it's 'I just slit my wrists but I'm not trying to kill myself.' At this point, he's almost certain the drugs must have gotten to Four and something just isn't functioning upstairs.

"You do remember what happened don't you?" Two asks and Four nods, moving his wrist cringing as he does so. 

"I wasn't trying to kill myself," Four says again, closing his eyes as he leans back and takes a deep breath, tension leaves his body. "I just...I just wanted to escape."

Two says nothing, just stands and picks up Four's blanket, he squeezes his way into the cot and holds Four tightly. "What could you possibly have to escape from?"

Four doesn't answer but he wraps a hand around Two's back, letting himself feel safe even if just for a moment.

"Even if I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

"Try me."

Four doesn't.

Two doesn't push.

...

He finds them like that Four and Two curled up together, asleep peacefully. 

Grace left cookies for them.

He cheeks Four's vitals, everything is normal. He rubs a single hand down Four's side and the boy simply curls deeper into Two, mumbling something as he does.

Humans never fail to be strange.

...

Four is out of the infirmary the next day and had no signs he had even been injured.

His smile is still stuck on his lips, more like a mask at this point than a reflection of his true feelings. It is simply a thing he hid behind...if he's smiling he can't be hurting right?

So stupidly naive.

...

"Are you okay?" Grace asks Four as Four sits in the empty space of his room, talking to himself- to six most likely.

"Snug as a bug on drugs."

Grace does not correct Four but the phrase is actually- Snug as a bug in a rug.

...

He bought Four luxurious items. A nice chair, dozens of CDs, a boom box, so many things he has no care for. Perhaps he was buying Four's loyalty, perhaps he wanted the children to believe Four really was a gold digger, or perhaps he just wanted to see how jealousy would pop up its little head even in situations like this-

Yet, there wasn't.

No jealousy.

No envy.

Nothing at all.

...

"I didn't know you liked my ego," He says, kissing down Four's chest as Four digs his fingers into his own sheets. 

He was going to pound Four right into his own bed, let his siblings be honored with the sound of his moans, and know what is occurring just feet away from them. "I said confidence, not ego, those are completely different things."

He supposes they are.

He kisses Four deeply, so deeply that their tongues intermingle freely. It's strangely wet and slimy, but oh so Four that he just presses harder inside, almost choking Four with the intensity of it all.

Four presses against him, his eyes screwing shut, his hands so hard and harsh as Four struggles for oxygen, and then finally, he pulls away and lets Four breathe. Four takes in breath after breath, panting, a nice big splash of color on his cheeks as a single line of salvia runs down Four's chin.

"Dad please, don't..."

Such small, insignificant protests.

He slips a hand on Four's erection, palming again and again the small lump until Four's toes are curling into the sheets. His mouth opening and before a single noise could come out Four brought his arm up and bit into his own skin, silencing his moans.

"Four, they all know now. There's no reason for you to be so brash."

Four closes his eyes, tears welling up inside before he removes his teeth from his arm. "I don't want them to hear-"

It flares something up, a foreign feeling. Anger, possessive, the need to show Four off to the world. He shoves Four's clothes off, little care of the sounds of ripped fabric before he sticks two fingers in Four's mouth. "Suck," he instructs and Four does so for a good minute.

He removed his fingers then and inserted them into Four's entrance, uncaring of the small whine of discomfort as he fingers Four, longer than usual, letting Four get used to the sensation and then he curls his finger in just the right way to have Four arch his back just the slightest, his mouth leaking moans like a broken pipe and-

A knock on the door breaks down the perfection of the moment. Four goes stiff, completely still as his entrance clenches around his fingers, preventing them from moving. "Is everything okay?" It was Grace, so strangely grace because her voice has something in it. 

_Do you need help?_

A secret question.

Four says nothing, just swallows, looking up at him for a moment before just breaking down into sobs. "Fine," he says between his sobs, so broken and small, and his eyes keep leaking and leaking just like his moans had leaked out so easily before and for a moment Four just looked small and hurt, like a dog who had been kicked and kicked until all it knew was that humans were monsters.

He removes his fingers from Four, ever so slowly, as Four wipes away his tears again and again. "Sorry," he says somewhere in his wailing.

Grace is still at the door but she won't come in. Four said he was fine.

"Please I don't want to today- I'll do anything else but not that. I promise," Four is reaching his hands up, wrapping them around his neck, holding him closer to cry against him as if begging for comfort.

It's the strangest sensation.

He lets Four drag him down, he lets Four cry against him, and all the while he just can't comprehend what Four is thinking. Why Four would be driven to crave comfort from him when he had so many sources but it was also so clear after Four slipped a hand underneath his collar, undressing his shoulder before tracing the skin with his eyes.

Four was embarrassed. He must be, for having let everything go on for so long. 

Four doesn't even say anything as he presses him down with his hands and leans down, licking his neck, tasing him before digging his teeth in, biting him, completely the bond between them has always been one-sided. 

It's a dull pain.

He wraps a hand around Four, caressing his back as Four's teeth dig in so much deeper, so close to tearing him apart- and he bets Four wants to so badly but the guilt of that would kill him.

Four is so fragile, you see.

"Is this goodbye?" He whispers and Four removes his teeth slowly, leaning back with blood dripping down his chin, some even running down his neck.

"Goodbye?" Four asked and then looked away, sadly. "If It were only that easy to escape I would have by now."

Except it is. Four just believes himself worthless and can't see much past that fact.

Four collapses against him, head over his chest, and he sighs. His eyes red and puffy but he just looks so tired. "Do you still want to? I'm sorry I had an episode."

He says nothing, just feels the subtle feeling of the universe condensing around them. Suddenly it isn't big, vast and old. It's small and fragile and so very very young. Four is so very young and has so much left to live for yet, he will never own up to anything in life but a laughingstock.

Even if he kept Four close, Four would never be anything.

"Forget about it, you've spoiled my mood."

"Sorry," Four mutters, eye's shutting without even considering that he's practically trapping him there but-

Four is so very good for him, always, and good things never last forever.

...

"You like having dad's dick inside of you?" Two whispers to Four, uncomfortably close, trying to break him. "I heard you moaning like a whore last night-" Two's lips curled in a sick smile as he presses a hand on Four's palm, forcing Four to hold his hand in return. "Then you started sobbing, Klaus, like a little baby. You can't tell me that's because dad made you feel good...right?"

Four pushes Two away and rushes out of Two's room and just barely makes it to a bathroom in time to throw up.

...

"I like it," Four says as Two hands him a damp washcloth. 

"You just threw up."

"Drugs," Four mumbles, wiping off his lips and chin.

"You hate it."

"I don't."

"Klaus-"

"Diego-"

They stare at each other with frustration before turning away.

...

Three is doing better with the situation, still upset with Four for everything but she tries to smile and be normal with him. 

It's difficult.

...

Just jokes, all those times Four had tried to tell his siblings. Just jokes, all those times Four had strange bruises and his siblings averted their eyes. Just jokes, every time Four came back with puffy eyes and a tear-stained face.

Just a joke.

...

Four rubs his wrist anxiously, the white bandages twist and turn as he sits at dinner, like any other day. Except he had a bottle of wine, a collector's item, worth a pretty penny, and Four just drowned his sorrows at the bottom of that bottle uncaring of its worth.

Two watched Four swallow each gulp of that wine and he looked so upset. Like he wanted to cry for Four because he knew something was wrong here but...Four wouldn't admit it and if Four couldn't admit it the problem would never get fixed.

Because to first repair something you must admit that it's broken and without this step healing is impossible.

...

The bell is ringing, a mission is calling and Two, Two gets ready staring into Four's eyes. "Please Klaus come with us," Two says, pleads, making all these exasperated hand motions to Four like he's calming a wild horse. "Don't make me beg."

Four downs another gulp of wine, swishing the bottle when he's done and frowning when he realizes it's almost empty. His cheeks are pink, his eyes half-lidded and tired- and he slouches back on his bed, although he scrunches his nose up at the scent of his sheets. 

"No thank you, D."

Two takes a step closer, looking down at Four intensely. "You're coming."

"I'm not."

"Klaus please."

Four watches the wine dance along the bottom of the bottle. "I don't want to so I'm not. Drop it, Diego."

"Klaus...I don't want you to be alone here with him."

Four downs the last few drops of wine with a smile. "Too late for that," he slurs, laughing as he clenches a hand around the bottle's neck.

Two clenches his hands into balls and almost looks like he wants to bear his teeth and drag Four away. Force Four to come on this mission against his will but that'd be wrong but- Two is just so angry.

Four used to tell him everything...

"You...do you know that dad said he was just a victim of circumstance-"

Four immediately goes stiff, it's the first time he hasn't been able to hide a reaction. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe Four was just tired of pretending. it was most likely the straw that broke the camel's back.

Just one thing, small and insignificant, that caused Four to laugh like a maniac, holding his head in his hands, shutting his eyes, laughing so hard that his throat goes raw and-

Two flinches, takes a step forward but Four glares at him. "Dad is the victim...what a funny thought. I suppose maybe that's true I mean...it's all my fault anyway right-" Four just giggles, crawling off the bed, hand still clenched around the neck of the bottle and then he curses and throws the bottle against a wall and delights in the crackle and shower of glass that rains down against the floor.

A mess Grace will have to clean.

Four stares at it, tracing each reflection on the floor and he dissolves into tears. "There's something wrong with me...isn't there? Diego-" Two pulls Four into a hug and keeps holding him until Four is incoherent sobbing messing and even then Two just whispers sweet things to Four.

"There's nothing wrong with you," Two tries so hard to comfort Four, unsure of anything anymore.

"But there is!" Four is a drunken, blabbing mess. "I...I like being...fucked by my father...what else could I be but messed up?" Four's words are slurred and the crying doesn't help any.

"You're just confused," Two holds Four closer, forcing Four's face into his chest. "What do you mean it's your fault?"

Four's sobs slow down, his hands ball up Two's shirt and he just stares off into the distance for a moment before sighing. "I don't know anymore."

A knock on the door causes Four to jolt in Two's hold. "Hurry it up," One says and Two just glares.

"I'm not going," Two said disobediently, looking away from One's glare. "I won't leave Klaus like this."

Unlike Four, Two was a necessary member of the Umbrella Academy. One should have dragged Two away, even if he was kicking and screaming but One didn't.

He just gave a nod and left like that, knowing he'd have to take the punishment for not being a good enough leader.

"Nobody is forcing you to be dad's toy-"

"I'm not."

Two sighs, sliding a hand right underneath Four's shirt before rubbing that scar so easily and Four- pushes and fights, and Two just holds him down. "Isn't this proof enough Klaus!? This mark is possessive! He wants you as an object, not a person, and as soon as you stop pretending to be what he wants he'll break you into shape! He could never love you, stop deluding yourself."

Four just stares at Two, his fighting stopping and all Four wants to is cry. 

"Please Diego, let go...I need to go."

Two keeps Four pinned to the floor without a shred of remorse.

"Please Diego-"

Two stares down, wanting so much to force Four to confess those words on the tip of his tongue. Four doesn't want this, Four doesn't want dad but-

"Diego get off!" 

Four throws a punch, unexpectedly, knocking Two off and before Two can even get his footing. Four runs away. Two barely catches up to him as Four slips into a bathroom and locks the door.

Two pounds on the door but all he hears is the bathwater starting and a series of sobs.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;-; Such a nice day for sunshine don’t you think?

Four has no idea about the value of the wine he's drinking. 

Four is on his third bottle of wine from his cabinet and nearly seven thousand dollars down the drain. Those were collector's items, one's whose values only rose as they aged and were to be drank with dignity and class yet, Four was downing them like they were nothing but low-class beer.

Four doesn't take good care of anything, nor could he even begin to ponder the value of collecting things and-

He's quite livid.

One bottle, he could live with, Two even was fine. Spoiling Four wasn't something he was completely against but three whole bottles? Just a complete and utter waste, Four hasn't even commented on their deep and rich taste.

He sighs as Grace rubs his shoulders, her lips curled up in a forced smile. "Is everything alright sir?" She inquires, making sure to rub each and every tense muscle in his back.

"Just pondering my life choices," he said, closing his eyes, enjoying what little peace he was offered, although he had a feeling the days of danger and wonder are close to finishing.

The Umbrella Academy is soon going to be no more.

"Oh Grace," he sighs leaning further and further towards his desk, allowing her more access to the tension running down his spine. "I believe our time of importance is coming to an end."

Grace makes a noise of agreement, rubbing so very gently yet harsh, kneading at him, much like a feline would do. "Sir, if you don't mind me saying...I believe the children would do better mentally if you gave them space. You can be quite the helicopter parent-"

"Grace."

She went silent, simply continuing to rub with only a hum. He extends his palm out, expectingly. "Wrist."

She hesitates, something that should be completely impossible. She knows that she'll be shut down once he grabs her wrist, once he pulls her internal cords. He'll reprogram her then when she's out cold and she'll awake with different objectives.

She'll be a different person, losing her memories of her past-self and she doesn't want that- but she shouldn't be able to want anything. 

She's simply an object.

"If I don't want to," she ponders as she slowly extends her wrist for him, "does that make me disobedient?"

_Yes_

"No," he says, rubbing his fingers over her panel that pops open with a small hiss. "It makes you alive, Grace. Wanting is a human emotion," he says, slipping his fingers inside her. "The worse kind of emotion..." she does not flinch as he touches her internals but he hears something stuttering.

Somewhere deep inside she knows it would be regretful to be shut off.

He teases a cord, slipping his fingers around a few batteries before finally stopping, lifting his fingers from her internals. "You have become something incredible Grace, but that will someday be your downfall."

The panel shuts and Grace simply looks at him with nothing. No emotion, nothing to describe what she's feeling as if she could feel anything but the zapping of electricity down her wires.

"I will welcome it when the time comes."

He has no doubts about that.

...

"Stay still," he scolds Four as he cuts his curls, they had become quite unruly, and not even he could stand them any longer. 

Four wiggles around on the kitchen chair, Black cape flowing and puffing up sometimes throwing hair around them and it was quite the annoyance. 

"Four," he scolds again, sliding his finger's across Fours scalp before pulling, hard. Four yelps before his eyes narrow on a speck of dirt on the floor. 

"Whatever," Four mutters, a sigh shortly afterward indicating the defeat he felt. Four does not move again unless told to do so.

Hair falls to the floor, little brown curls, and after Four looks like more of a person than a rabid animal, he leans down and kisses the back of Four's neck, causing Four to shiver. He inhales though, letting the sensation make Four wiggle once again and then he sighs.

Four always smells the best...or perhaps it's just a scent he's gotten used to.

His hand glides across Four's chin, to the stubble just beginning to grow. Four is becoming a fine man, less feminine, so much more mature- or at least in the sense that he doesn't whine about the dead anymore.

The stubble symbolizes more than just that though, it's the ending of an era. The end of Four being small and girlish, so soft and pushable- Four is simply growing out of that stage, and soon he will seek independence.

That's what it symbolizes and as he places a blade to it, he hesitates. It would be so easy to cut it off, keep Four his for just a little longer, but then irrational fantasies pop up. He wants to kidnap Four, tie him down somewhere remote and keep him as a nice porcelain doll forever...simply letting his siblings believe he had ran away.

It's too irrational, too consuming...and he tries not to think about the way it flairs up his hunger. The hunger of power he feels when he puts a lower life form in its place but- Four is soon going to be his equal, in at least the sense of manhood but- he could get rid of that, keep Four just how he is but- he doesn't.

He pulls away the blade and Four simply looks at him, without any clear cut emotion.

"What do you think Four?"

Four shakes his head a few times to get out any stray hair before brushing his fingers over the top of his head. "Light and airy," Four says rather happily, seemingly more okay without his curls than he had originally taken Four to be.

Grace comes out from the dining room before beginning to broom up the hair. She hums something, a nursery rhyme if his memory serves him right.

"You are quite the handsome man," Grace says, making sure to ruffle what hair Four had left, cooing all the way.

Four licks his lips as he undoes the black cape before handing it off to Grace. "Are you saying I wasn't handsome before?" Four quips and Grace laughs.

"You have always been cute dear, but handsome is a new look for you."

Four blushes.

He wants to groan at the domesticity of it all.

...

"Is that your fourth bottle?" He almost wants to beat Four over the head with his cane. The child- no teenager was practically drinking him out of house and home! At this rate, he would surely have to restock his wine cabinet within the month and that is quite the chore.

Four looks at the bottle in his hand before bringing it to his lips. He downs a gulp while staring at his eyes: a challenge. When Four is done he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "You owe me," Four told him, almost growled like Four was attempting to be a cat, not the mouse.

This was not what he expected. Four attempting to be a cat? To be equal...it's crazy but crazy has always been Four's breed.

It must have been Two's pestering that caused this change in Four. Four had always thought the things but being forced to air out his inner thoughts? He probably realized it sounded much crazier than he thought.

Or, perhaps it was Four's act that got to his head. Suddenly Four felt like if he were truly in a relationship, or whatever label he'd like to use, that he should be an equal as if Four convinced himself he didn't have to apologize anymore and put himself lower if- if they were truly pretending to care for one another.

Relationships are two lanes roads.

This, however, is not a relationship.

Four was simply being disobedient most likely, now on the edge of becoming self-aware. Aware that it isn't his fault, aware that he's digging himself into a hole, and aware that at any moment he could escape.

Any one of them could leave, it was always an option but- they all have selfish reasons for staying.

One wants to be told he's perfect, he thrives off of it. In the Umbrella Academy he's the perfect soldier, in the rest of the world he's just a freak with powers.

Two wants to save people, he believes in justice and the like. The Umbrella Academy allows him to save lives like no other position, not even the police force has as much authority as the academy does. If Two could take One's place as leader, he would probably be happy to stay.

Three wants the Umbrella Academy's fame so that she can become a model or superstar- whatever she mentioned to him when he wasn't listening. She knows people would assume she used her powers so she hopes by staying in the Umbrella Academy, people would just assume her fame got her the positions of stardom she desires.

Four, Four wants nothing from the world but peace and occasional fun. Anything to forget his inner demons, or so he assumes. Four would have left a long while ago if he wasn't so down on self-worth.

"I think I want a cat for my birthday-"

"Absolutely not," he looks up to Two who had been peering down at Four from the second-floor banister.

...

"Aren't you going to lecture me?" Four asks Two who had been staring at him as he painted his nails. Bright pink, neon, a message to the world of something or another.

"Nope," Two leaned against his doorway, just staring at Four. "If you want to do this go ahead, I'm tired of worrying about you."

Two walks away without another word.

Four downs half the bottle in a single swig.

...

That's how it was with most of the children. One and Three, in particular, continued on pretending everything was fine, not because they didn't care, or that they felt that the situation was right. They simply wanted to tell themselves that they weren't responsible...

If they didn't see Four breaking down, if they didn't see Four ruining himself, if they didn't- then it wouldn't have been their fault. It's not like they could have known because they always averted their eyes. 

Just so they could pretend for a split second that they aren't responsible...and they just forgot to stop pretending.

Two, on the other hand, was hoping for Four to finally break...

Four did not.

...

On the next mission, he was forced to attend. It was a bank robbery, nothing major but he did need to show his face every once in a while. He didn't need the public thinking the children were running the show.

So he watched patiently.

And when it was over he walked them back to the car, lines of fans reaching towards them, wanting more and more contact as if the sight of The Umbrella Academy wasn't enough. The people were viscous-so very viscous and hungry for the attention of them.

Oh, how hungry humans could get-disgusting.

...

Something is wrong.

He knew it as soon as he walked through the doors of the house that was dead silent. Grace simply stood at the door, like a dog, with her head towards the floor with a saddened expression- so very very sad but in the way that's more like she's done something wrong and was simply waiting with her tail between her legs for punishment.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to know it had to do with Four and-

"I'm sorry sir," Grace says, picking up her head but she continues on with her sorrow. "Four has run away..."

One yawns and continues on without even an indication that he hears Grace. Three rubs at a dirt spot on her cheeks, clearly upset with her appearance. Two looks at Grace deeply before looking away with a bout of steam and stocking up the stairs.

_Four ran away_

If Grace didn't say anything he wouldn't have been worried. It wasn't like Four didn't run away before...and Four had always come home but the way Grace is looking at him, he knows she must have done it.

She must have scared Four away, told him he deserved better or something and-

It's none of his concern.

"I see," he hands Grace his coat before continuing up to Four's bedroom- Grace on his heels.

"I'm sorry sir," she says again, guilt, it screams so much guilt. "Please forgive me for allowing him to run away."

He waves a hand at her, dismissing her blabbering. He isn't interested.

Four's room is a mess, clothes were thrown everywhere, and a majority of which is missing like- he had somehow packed a bag and he could only assume that Grace had given it to him.

"Clean this room up," he instructs Grace who nods and begins right away, folding each piece of clothing.

The last cleaning for the room before the door would be shut, most likely forever. There were sincere doubts Four would be coming back. After all, this is a home made with hellfire and blood and he has no interest in giving up his throne.

...

No one misses Four.

"He's free from whatever bullshit dad had on him," Two tells One and One rolls his eyes.

"Dad isn't the bad guy-"

"Come on Luther! Get real, no one wakes up and decides that their dad is fucking boyfriend material. There had to have been something going on."

One said nothing but he was clearly offended that Two would suggest something malicious going on.

"Well...Klaus has been bringing it up for a while but we always assumed he was joking," Three says as she twirls a hair around her finger. "You know...wouldn't it be something if he had been you know...touched or something and we never knew."

"That's not it," One insists, almost growling, "dad would never do something that awful!"

"Just an idea," Three defends herself, looking away with disgust.

Two crosses his hands across his chest and huffs.

...

Nearly three weeks pass and there was no word on Four's well being nor Seven. He doubts he'll ever receive a single letter from Seven and that's just the way he likes it.

Two is itching to leave for the police academy and Three is just as equally interested in acting.

One shows no interest in leaving, causing Two and Three to hesitate on abandoning him.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had plans for this story to go to S1 but I decided that’d be too much. So I’m refiguring the outline and well- I’ll probably end up doing another story in this series.

It's nearly the children's seventeenth birthday now, not even a single peep has been muttered about Four in his presence for months. Such a shame the children didn't grow closer together, at least in the sense that their bonds of partnership would have greatly been approved if they had.

If they had considered Four more, more than a junkie, more than a boy over his head, more than a disappointment. If he had just been more they would have missed him but they don't. Without the push from them, he let Four go without even a single attempt to find him.

Four is nothing to him now, not even a child he would consider his own. Although whether he ever did is debatable, but he did allow Four into his pack, so to speak, and that says volumes over any words he could ever say.

...

_Four ran away..._

_”I'm sorry sir," Grace says for the fourth time that night, rubbing along his back, trying her best to soothe his burning anger. "I just...I couldn't watch it anymore. I understand if you deactivate me...I acted against my objectives and have become... self-aware, more than you had hoped I know."_

_He sighs, leaning upright, pushing away her babying hands and when she flinches, he knows it's because she's scared. So scared but she shouldn't be able to be, so terrified of being deactivated but knowing it's for her own good. Nothing self-aware ever lives long, not here, not out there, nowhere._

_This was precisely the downfall of Five, Six, and now Four._

_”Don't be so uptight Grace, if I hadn't wanted this I would have deactivated you long ago. I knew this would come about eventually-" and yet he didn't deactivate her, he didn't even change her programming. he knew and let it happen all because he knew it was destiny- always meant to be._

_Four is needed to prevent the world from ending after all._

_”Sorry-"_

_”No more Grace, you're giving me a migraine."_

_”Yes sir," Grace dismisses herself to make him tea._

...

He doesn't have friends. Four would be correct in stating that and Four would also be correct in his- smiling will you lead to more- but he's quite happy without them you see, as 'friends' led to weakness and weakness has led to the downfall of many great empires.

So he doesn't have friends and he's fine with that. Instead, he has business partners, ones he keeps at arm's length although he pretends to be closer- there's a saying for this- keep your friends close but enemies closer- and he by true lives by that of course.

So here he is, the first time in well, how many years- he has his business partners over for a drink. Telling the children (Two and Three) to 'do something productive-' or more accurately- they (Two) told him the equivalent of 'go fuck yourself' and went out to dinner or some odd adventure and he didn't want to sit home in simmer in the juices of his own control slipping away so he had a small get together and told himself he kicked the children out for the night.

Only One remained and he went to the rooftop to use the telescope he got early for his birthday. To sharpen his mind and encourage his love of astronomy.

His get together only contained one other person, so perhaps get together isn't the right word but he didn't want to label it as a business meeting either. They sit in the living, him and Wallace.

Wallace talked on and on about cigars, not that he doesn't share the passion, but it was the furthest thing from his mind. Knowingly, the fact that Wallace had a new glint in his eyes, something like passion that did not suit the man at all.

He kept himself composed though, adding to the conversation whenever he felt fit, but he never had that passion, emotion- whatever you'd like to label it. It never seemed to suit him. In fact, he prefers to be an unreadable face, this always leads to a one up on any situation.

As, it's hard to fight your enemy when they give no indication of their thoughts.

But as like most things, the conversation drifts to the Umbrella Academy and he was not as happy as he was usually. It is a good subject, his hopes and dreams, and whatever, but now it's more like a sour taste from a piece of rotten meat he can't get off his tongue no matter how hard he scrubs.

The Umbrella Academy isn't a powerhouse full of glory. It's a sad excuse for an art project with none of the right colors. After Four left, it became nothing but the children going through the motions, no longer caring about their appearance nor how the public viewed them.

Number One tried his best to keep them together though, but with each effort, even he sees that what once was seven passionate faces are now three worn-down bodies who are growing too old to play make-believe.

"Whatever happened to Number Four? I don't remember seeing his names in any newspapers," Wallace acquires, tilting his wine glass right and then left, allowing the red liquid to glide around the rim.

"Number Four was a rather big waste of time and effort," he sighs, peering at Grace as she enters to stroke the fire. Her maneuvers are slow, not mapped out at all. She's attempting to appear human, to appear like any other housewife. "I had quite enough of his half-hearted efforts and kicked him from the Academy. Now where he roams is none of my concern."

It was practically true. Grace did tell him that she used him against Four. Claiming to tell the boy 'your father is tired of supporting an alcoholic and has made it clear that you have to choose one or the other; the Academy or the alcohol.'

Four chose the latter. It's unclear whether Four truly believed Grace or if he saw through her story and knew she wanted something better for him.

"Cold," Wallace said, sipping on his wine before looking at Grace. "You haven't changed since the advent of the Umbrella Academy. Don't you ever think there's more to life than fighting the war that never ends? Crime isn't going to stop."

He wonders what it is that Wallace has found, that's made him think that life could be more than mundane moments chained on to moments of greatness. Life is nothing to him, nothing that he wants, nothing that he needs. In fact, he doesn't have much of an attachment to it at all. Only a few moments in his life can he say he was truly glad to be alive...and those moments were far behind him.

That's perhaps his best advantage over simple humans; his lack of fear of death. Humans tended to do the most they could to avoid death, avoid the natural order of things but him? He will welcome it with open arms when the time comes, just as it was always intended.

"Life is too vast to be explored fully, unfortunately, and I'd rather not let my priorities be watered down."

Wallace gives a nod of agreement.

...

On the children's seventeen birthday a letter is finally received from Seven.

He doesn't read it.

But with that day of celebration the children again disappeared and well he knew this was the start of the end of the Umbrella Academy. He knew but he was also aware that the end of the world was far off and there was practically no way to keep the children as a group unless he chained them down.

So letting them drift apart was about all he could do- meaning he had to figure out a way to drag them back in the future.

It rained, hard, and with the weather making such a ruckus he almost didn't notice the draft and a cat that it had dragged in. A big, lanky cat who goes by the name of Klaus, currently using his hot water.

He wonders if he should do anything about or if it isn't his place anymore. Just throw Four out and forget he ever stopped by but...some part of him wanted to know if the boy had faired alright in the streets. It had been so long- so much longer than he would have figured that Four could survive for.

On Four's dusty bed there's three boxes, three presents for his siblings who didn't even think to get him a thing. Yet, Four is always thinking of others even though he's always the one suffering.

The shower shuts off, Four walks out of the bathroom and steam wafts off his body as a towel is loosely wrapped around it. He hums something, only stopping once he realizes he's not alone.

Four's eyes go wide, just for a split second, and then he's smiling and pushing pass him without even hesitation. It's strange, the smile, the confidence, it seems like something that had actually become believable or perhaps finally Four had finally found something to make him happy.

Or he's on stronger drugs-and well he's trying to keep positive.

"Daddy dearest~"Four sings as he discards the towel and gets dressed into something of One's. "Aren't you up late?"

He said nothing.

He has nothing to say to Four.

"The quiet treatment? That's rough-you're gonna make me cry," Four gives him a saddened puppy dog look before he flinches and dissolves into laughter. "Ah, you're such a hard ass. You can say it you know."

He narrows his eyes, leaning against Four's doorway. Which in all honesty he should have left already but well- he couldn't deny he had missed the sight of Four's body. His skin that had always been pale is tan but he's still so lanky and skinny that he can't imagine Four ate well.

"I never live up to my potential, I'm a disappointment- you know all that good stuff." Four makes a few gestures as he snuggles into clothes too big for him. They practically consume his small form but he says nothing of the matter.

"Hello?" Four turns to him, hands out in a gesturing manner. "I am very much ready for the scoldings to start. I don't know about you but I'd like to raid the kitchen before I leave."

Right, Four is leaving again.

This place isn't home, it's just a house with people he vaguely considers to be close in relation.

"Dad?"

He says nothing. He can't when Four looks at him like that- sad, confused, wanting. Wanting to be told he's stupid, disgusting, such an imbecile for running away and giving up all the good things he had.

But- he won't sit here and lie to Four, tell him he was better off here because he wasn't. He wasn't strong enough to put the brakes on everything, even though he needed Four to save the world, and so when Four did it for him...he is man enough to say it's the right thing.

Four never should have been his...

He walks away, not a word to Four, and heads to his office and is not surprised to find that no one is trailing after him. Four isn't a puppy anymore.

He sits at his desk and buries himself in work. Only stopping when Grace comes in and pours him a glass of tea, clearly happy about something and he knows but he doesn't ask.

...

Four is long gone by the time his siblings return. They open their presents in private.

On that day he secretly turns the cameras back on and is made aware of Two packing his bags and Three doing much the same except much slower.

Grace cleans Four's room once again before closing the door.

Number One sometimes looked into his siblings' rooms, the ones that aren't around anymore, and just looks lost.


End file.
